m 


•H 


•m^n 

•Hi 


Southern  Branch 
of  the 

University  of  California 

Los  Angeles 


Form  L-l 


This  book  is  DUE  on   the  last  date  stamped  below 


JUL  7     1925 


APR  :J>     1923 
MAY  181923 

1  8  1923 


OCT 


APR 


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Form  L  9-5//'-T,'l 


THE  PINES  OF  LORY 


It  is  no  gardener's  cottage  " 


THE 


PINES  OF  LORY 


By 

J.  A.  Mitchell 

Author  of  "Amos  Judd,"   "  That  First  Affair'"' 
"  Gloria  Pictis,"  etc. 


DECORATIONS    BY    ALBERT    D.  BLASHFIELD 


New  York 

Life  Publishing  Company 
i  901 


Copyright,  1901 

BY    J  .     A .      Ml TCHELL 
New  York  City 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
Printed  in  the  United  States 


All  rights  reserved 


/v\ 


3 


TO 

ALL    LOVERS    OF    LOVERS 

AND   LOVERS   OF   OUT-OF-DOOR   THINGS 

AND   MILDER    FORMS   OF 

FOLLY 

THIS   BOOK 

IS   AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED 


ere  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  wood, 
ere  is  a  rapture  on  the  lonely  shore. 

Bjrtn.     |J 
_ •          ,J* 


A   RELIC   FROM   AFRICA 


THE 
sea. 


HE  Maid  of  the  North  was  ready  for 


Only  the  touch  of  the  engineer  was 
wanting  to  send  her,  once  again,  on  a  homeward 
voyage  to  the  St.  Lawrence.  Meanwhile,  in 
solemn  undertones,  she  was  breathing  forth  her 
superabundant  steam. 

Behind  the  wharf  lay  the  city  of  Boston. 

A  score  of  passengers,  together  with  friends 

who  had   come    aboard  to  see  them   off,   were 

scattered    about    the    little    steamer.      Among 

them,  on  the  after  deck,  indifferent  to  the  hot 

June    sun,   moved    a   gentleman   of  aristocratic 

mien.     His  raiment  was  above   reproach.     He 

gave   the    impression    of  being   a   distinguished 

^on.     But  this  impression  was  delusive,  his 

:mction   being   merely   social.     He   was  too 

9 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

well  provided  for,  too  easily  clever  and  in  too 
many  ways,  to  achieve  renown  in  any  field  re 
quiring  serious  labor. 

He  inhaled  the  salt  air  as  it  came  in  from  the 
sea,  took  out  his  watch,  scanned  the  wharf, 
picked  a  thread  from  his  sleeve,  and  twirled, 
somewhat  carefully,  the  ends  of  a  yellow  mous 
tache.  His  glance  moved  indifferently  over 
various  passengers  and  things  about  him  until 
it  rested  on  a  man,  not  far  away.  The  man 
was  leaning  against  the  railing  of  the  deck 
watching  the  scene  upon  the  wharf  below. 

The  extreme  attenuation  of  this  person  had 
already  rendered  him  an  object  of  interest  to 
several  passengers.  His  clothing  hung  loosely 
from  his  shoulders.  Both  coat  and  vest  were 
far  too  roomy  for  the  body  beneath,  while  the 
trousers  bore  no  relation  to  his  legs.  But  the 
emaciated  face,  deeply  browned  by  exposure,  told 
a  story  of  hardship  and  starvation  rather  than 
of  ordinary  sickness.  Two  thin,  dark  hands 
that  rested  on  the  ship's  rail  seemed  almost  trans 
parent. 

The  aristocratic  gentleman  regarded  this  per 
son  with  increasing  interest.  He  approached 
the  railing  himself  and  furtively  studied  the 
stranger's  profile.  Then,  with  an  expression  in 

10 


A  Relic  from  Africa 

his  face  less  blase  than  heretofore,  he  approached 
the  man  and  stood  behind  him.  Laying  a  hand 
on  one  of  the  shoulders  to  prevent  his  victim 
turning,  he  said: 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  could  you  tell 
me  the  name  of  this  town  ? " 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Then  the  stranger 
answered,  in  a  serious  tone,  and  with  no  effort 
to  see  his  questioner : 

"  This  is  Boston,  the  city  of  respectability  — 
and  other  delights." 
"Yes?" 

"  It  is  also  the  home  of  a  man  who  does  n't 
seem  to  have  matured  with  the  passing  years." 
"  Well,  who  is  that  man  ?  " 
"  A  fellow  that  might  have    been  a  famous 
tenc  •  if  he  had   a  voice  —  and  some   idea  of 
mus':." 

Tho  other  man  laughed,  removed  his  hand, 

and    ns  friend   turned   about.     Then  followed 

'ng  as  between  old  intimates,  long  sepa- 

And  such  was  the  mutual  pleasure  that 

Soring  spectator,  many  years  embittered. 

pepsia,  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  allow 

of  sympathy  to  occupy  his  face. 

countenance    of  the    attenuated   person 

usual ;   not  from   any  peculiarity  of  fea- 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

ture,  but  from  its  invincible  cheerfulness.  This 
cheerfulness  was  constitutional,  and  contagious. 
His  face  seemed  nearly  ten  years  younger  than 
it  was;  for  the  unquenchable  good-humor  hav 
ing  settled  there  in  infancy  had  thwarted  the 
hand  of  time.  No  signs  of  discouragement, 
of  weariness  or  worry  had  gained  a  footing. 
There  were  no  visible  traces  of  unwelcome  ex 
perience.  While  distinctly  a  thoughtful  face, 
good-humor  and  a  tranquil  spirit  were  the  two 
things  -  most  clearly  written.  His  eyes  were 
gray  —  frank,  honest,  mirthful,  with  little 
wrinkles  at  the  corners  when  he  smiled. 

After  many  questions  had  been  asked  and 
answered,  the  more  pretentious  gentleman  laid 
a  hand  affectionately  on  the  other's  arm,  and 
said: 

"  But  what  has  happened  to  you,  Pats  ? 
How  thin  you  are!  You  look  like  a  ghost  — 
a  mahogany  ghost." 

"  Fever.  A  splendid  case  of  South  African 
fever." 

"  Too  bad  !      Are  you  well  over  it  ? " 

"  Yes,  over  the  fever ;  but  still  tottery.  My 
strength  has  not  come  home  yet.  And  the  lead 
was  a  set  back." 

"  You  mean  bullets  ? " 

12 


A  Relic  from  Africa 

"  Yes.  I  caught  two,  but  they  are  both  out. 
I  am  getting  along  all  right  now." 

"And  you  have  just  reached  America?" 

"  Landed  in  New  York  yesterday ;  got  here 
this  morning  at  half-past  seven,  found  my 
family  were  up  on  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  here 
I  am.  But  what  are  you  doing  on  this  boat  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  just  came  down  to  see  somebody  off." 

An  excess  of  indifference  in  the  manner  of 
this  reply  did  not  escape  the  friend  from  Africa. 
With  a  sidelong  glance  at  his  companion,  he 
said,  "  A  man,  of  course." 

u  How  clever  you  are,  Pats  !  " 

w  No  need  of  being  clever,  Billy,  when  you 
advertise  your  secret  by  blushing  like  a  girl  of 
fifteen." 

"  Blush  !  I,  blush  !  How  old  do  you  think 
I  am  ?  Ten  ?  " 

"  Yes  all  of  that.  But  if  you  did  n't  actually 
blush,  old  man,  you  did  look  foolish.  And 
this  explains  a  state-room  full  of  flowers  that 
I  noticed.  Is  that  her  bower  I  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"Well,  who  is  she,   Billy?     You    might  as 
™<>11  tell  me,  for  I  shall  be  sure  to  discover  if 
goes  on  this  boat." 
1  Elinor  Marshall." 

13 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

u  Elinor  Marshall  ?  Why,  that  name  is 
familiar.  Where  have  I  heard  it?" 

"  She  is  a  friend  of  your  sisters." 

"  Of  course  !  " 

"  And  she  is  going  to  your  place  now,  on  a 
visit. " 

"Good!  I'll  cut  you  out.  Is  she  fond  of 
bones?" 

Mr.  William  Townsend  did  not  answer,  but 
he  looked  at  his  watch.  "  She  ought  to  be  here 
now.  The  boat  sails  at  ten-thirty,  does  n't  it?  " 

"Yes." 

"  It 's  ten,  now.  I  shall  trot  you  up  as  soon 
as  she  arrives." 

**  Thanks.  You  will  excuse  my  asking  a 
cruel  question,  old  man,  but  you  certainly  did 
not  send  all  the  flowers  in  that  cabin  ? " 

"Oh,  no!" 

"  Then  there  are  other  —  appreciators  ?  " 

"Yes." 

Mr.  Patrick  Boyd,  with  a  slight  gesture 
toward  two  carefully  attired  gentlemen  who 
were  pacing  the  wharf,  raised  his  eyebrows 
interrogatively. 

His  companion  smiled.  "Yes.  She  can 
also  have  either  of  them,  and  without  the 
asking." 

14 


A  Relic  from  Africa 

The  attenuated  man  regarded  the  two  gentle 
men  with  interest.  "  That  chap  has  a  familiar 
face." 

"Which?     The  one  with  the  bouquet?  " 

"  No  ;  the  one  with  the  nose." 

"  That 's  Hamilton  Goddard." 

"To  be  sure!  And  I  should  know  his  friend 
was  a  lover.  His  anxious  glances  up  the  wharf, 
and  those  flowers  give  him  away.  Such  roses 
are  for  no  aunt  or  sister." 

u  Better  for  him  if  they  were  !  " 

"Why?     No  chance?" 

"  Well,  that  is  not  for  me  to  say.  But  he 
is  one  of  those  fearfully  earnest  chaps,  with  a 
tragic  soul,  and  a  rebuff  would  be  a  dangerous 
thing  for  him." 

"  Poor  devil ! " 

And  the  man  of  cheerful  countenance  slowly 
wagged  his  head,  as  he  added,  in  a  sympathetic 
voice,  "  This  being  in  love  seems  a  painful 
pleasure." 

Mr.  William  Townsend  regarded  his  friend 
with  half-shut  eyes,  and  asked,  "  Are  you  still 
the  superior  person  who  defies  the  —  the 
malady  ? " 

"  Even  so." 

«  You  ne*-  .r  had  it  ?  " 
15 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  Never." 

"  How  old  are  you  ? " 

"  Thirty." 

"Then  it's  a  lie/' 

"  It 's  the  truth.  Of  course  I  have  known 
very  fine  girls  who  caused  the  usual  thrills, 
whose  conservatory  kisses  I  should  never  un 
dervalue.  But  when  it  comes  to  the  fatuous 
delirium  —  the  celestial  idiocy  that  queers  the 
brain  and  impairs  the  vision  —  why,  I  have  been 
unlucky,  that 's  all." 

"  You  are  a  liar,  Pats.     Just  a  liar." 

"  Mumps  have  been  mine,  and  measles  ;  and 
I  have  fooled  with  grape  juice,  but  that  other 
drunkenness  has  been  denied  me." 

His  companion's  grunt  of  incredulity  was 
followed  by  the  exclamation : 

"  There  she  comes  ! " 

The  two  men  below  had  halted,  wheeled 
about,  and  were  watching  an  approaching  car 
riage.  Down  the  wharf  with  this  equipage 
came  an  atmosphere  of  solidity  and  opulence, 
of  luxury  and  perfect  taste.  On  the  box,  in 
quiet  livery,  sat  a  driver  and  a  footman.  The 
driver,  from  his  bearing  and  appearance,  could 
easily  have  passed  for  the  president  of  a  college. 
As  the  carriage  halted  before  the  gang  plank, 

16 


A  Relic  from  Africa 

the  gentleman  with  the  nose  stepped  forward 
and  opened  the  door,  while  he  of  the  roses 
stood  by  with  a  radiant  visage,  his  hat  in  one 
hand,  his  offering  in  the  other. 

First,  emerged  an  elderly  gentleman,  tall, 
slender,  and  acutely  respectable.  After  him,  a 
girl  descended,  also  tall  and  slender.  She  was 
followed  by  a  maid,  and  a  Catholic  priest.  As 
the  young  lady  stood  for  a  moment  conversing 
with  the  two  admirers,  her  glance,  in  running 
over  the  little  steamer,  encountered  Mr.  Town- 
send,  and  she  nodded  pleasantly. 

"  Lovely  !  Enchanting  !  "  murmured  the 
man  from  Africa. 

"  Of  course  she  is  !  Come  down,  and  I  '11 
present  you." 

"  But,  first,  tell  me  something  about  her. 
What  are  the  interesting  facts?" 

"Why,  there's  nothing  to  tell  —  that  I  can 
think  of." 

"Of  course  there  is  !  There  must  be !  Women 
like  that  don't  bloom  in  every  garden.  What  a 
patrician  type  !  And  all  that  black  hair  !  She  is 
unusual." 

"  Well,  she  is  unusual,  Pats.  She  is  a  splen- 
girl,  —  an  orphan ;  and  she  is  giving  her 
me  all  away." 

17 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  The  devil !     And  to  whom  ?  " 

"  To  philanthropy ;  to  societies  for  the  ad 
vancement  of  woman ;  to  hospitals  and  other 
bottomless  pits.  But  above  all  to  the  Catholic 
Church." 

"  Too  bad  !  She  does  n't  look  so  unintelli- 
gent." 

"  No :  and  she  is  not.  Her  mother  and  sis 
ter,  all  that  remained  of  her  family,  were  both 
drowned  in  the  same  accident,  and  the  shock 
upset  her  for  a  time." 

"And  it  was  then  the  Church  got  in  its  work  ? 
That  explains  the  Holy  Roman  Cherub  who 
seems  to  be  along." 

"  Yes ;  that 's  Father  Burke.  He  is  a  part  of 
the  comedy." 

"  Comedy  !  It 's  a  blood-curdling  drama ! 
Has  n't  she  a  brother  or  some  relative  to  reach 
out  a  hand  and  save  her  ? " 

"  She  does  n't  care  to  be  saved.  She  is  one  of 
those  women  with  a  conscience.  A  big  one : 
the  sort  that  becomes  a  disease  unless  taken  in 
time." 

"  I  know.  She  feels  guilty  if  she 's  happy. 
But  she  does  n't  look  all  that.  She  seems  a  trifle 
earnest,  perhaps,  but  very  human,  and  with  real 
blood  in  her  veins." 

18 


A  Relic  from  Africa 

Mr.  Townsend  sighed  —  a  long,  deep  sigh  that 
seemed  to  come  from  below  his  waist.  "Yes, 
she  was  mighty  good  company  and  rather  jolly 
before  the  vultures  closed  in  on  her." 

"  Is  she  really  in  the  coils  of  the  anaconda  ? " 

"  I  am  afraid  so.  She  won't  talk  about  it  her 
self,  —  at  least,  not  with  Protestants,  —  but  some 
of  her  friends  say  she  thinks  of  going  into  a 
convent." 

"Well,"  said  Patrick  Boyd,  with  a  sudden 
warmth,  as  they  turned  to  go  below,  "  all  I  can 
say  is,  that  the  institution,  sacred  or  secular,  that 
tries  to  lure  such  a  girl  into  a  convent  ought  to 
be  hustled  into  space." 

"  Amen  to  that ! " 


II 

FROTH    OF   THE   SEA 

AN     hour    later,    as     the    Maid    of   the 
North    was    steaming    for    the    open 
sea,  the  man  from  Africa  and  his  new 
acquaintance    formed    a    group    on    the    after 
deck. 

The  day  was  a  rare  one,  even  for  early  June. 
Across  the  surface  of  the  water  —  now  a  spark 
ling,  joyful  blue  —  the  air  came  free  and  full 
of  life.  This  air  was  exhilarating.  It  inspired 
Father  Burke  to  tell  a  funny  anecdote,  and  he 
did  it  well.  For  not  only  did  Father  Burke 
possess  a  sense  of  humor,  but  his  heavy,  be 
nevolent  face,  white  hair,  and  deep  voice  gave 
unusual  impressiveness  to  whatever  he  chose  to 
utter.  Even  Mr.  Appleton  Marshall,  a  victim 
of  acute  Bostonia,  eluded  for  a  time  his  own 
self-consciousness.  He  soon  went  below,  how 
ever,  to  revel,  undisturbed,  in  a  conservative 

20 


Froth  of  the  Sea 

local  paper.  Mr.  Patrick  Boyd,  —  or  Fats,  as 
we  may  as  well  call  him,  —  being  always  of  a 
buoyant  spirit,  added  liberally  to  the  general 
cheer. 

The  young  lady  regarded  this  addition  to  her 
party  with  a  peculiar  interest.  She  knew  that 
the  mention  of  his  name  in  his  own  family  was 
for  years  a  thing  forbidden.  Just  how  bad  he 
was,  or  how  innocent,  she  had  never  learned. 
And  now,  as  she  studied,  furtively,  this  exile 
of  uncertain  reputation,  and  as  she  recognized 
the  open  nature,  the  fortitude,  the  tranquil 
spirit,  all  unmistakably  written  m  his  emaciated, 
sunburnt  face,  her  curiosity  was  quickened. 
She  knew  that  Sally,  his  elder  sister,  —  her  own 
intimate  friend,  —  had  persisted  in  a  correspond 
ence  with  her  brother  against  her  father's  wishes. 
And  that,  perhaps,  was  in  his  favor.  At  least, 
he  had  a  good  mouth  and  honest  eyes.  His 
neck,  his  hands,  and  his  legs  were  preternatu- 
rally  thin,  and  she  wondered  if  the  gap  between 
his  collar  and  his  throat  told  a  truthful  story  of 
11  African  fever.  If  so,  the  change  had 
sen  appalling.  However,  neither  bullets  nor 
had  reduced  his  spirits. 

conversation  touched  on   many  things. 

she  happened  to  say  that  this  was  her 

21 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

first  visit  to  the  Boyds'  Canadian  house,  he 
replied : 

"  And  mine  too." 

"Have  you  never  seen  it?"  she  asked  in 
surprise. 

"  Never.  My  father  bought  this  place  about 
ten  years  ago,  and  I  have  been  away  over 
thirteen  years." 

"  I  had  forgotten  you  had  been  away  so 
long." 

With  a  smile  and  a  slight  inclination  of  his 
head,  he  replied : 

"That  you  should  know  of  my  existence  is  a 
flattering  surprise.  Any  mention  of  my  name, 
I  understand,  was  a  state's  prison  offence  until 
my  father  died." 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that." 

"A  man's  fame  is  not  apt  to  flourish  when 
corked  up  in  a  bottle  and  laid  away  in  a  closet, 
with  *  Poison  '  on  the  label." 

Here  was  a  chance  to  gratify  a  natural  curi 
osity,  and  he  seemed  willing  to  throw  light  on 
the  mystery.  She  was  about  to  offer  the  neces 
sary  encouragement,  when  Father  Burke  took 
the  conversation  into  less  personal  fields.  It 
may  have  been  the  contagion  of  this  young 

man's  cheerfulness,  or  the  reaction  on  the  lady's 

22 


Froth  of  the  Sea 

part  from  an  acute  religious  tension,  but  the 
priest  had  noticed  Miss  Marshall  was  awaken 
ing  to  a  livelier  enjoyment  of  her  surroundings. 
The  spontaneity  and  freedom  of  her  laughter, 
on  one  or  two  occasions,  had  caused  him  a 
certain  uneasiness.  Not  that  Father  Burke  was 
averse  to  merriment.  Too  much  of  it,  however, 
for  this  particular  maiden  and  at  this  critical  pe 
riod,  might  cause  a  divergence  from  the  Holy 
Roman  path  along  which  he  now  was  escorting 
her.  So  he  gave  some  interesting  facts  concern 
ing  this  summer  residence  of  the  Boyds,  winding 
up  with  the  information  that  the  hunting  and 
fishing,  all  about  there,  were  unusual. 

"  But  we  women  cannot  hunt  and  fish  all 
day  ! " 

"Perhaps  it's  like  Heaven,"  said  Pats, 
"  where  there 's  nothing  to  do  except  to  realize 
what  a  good  time  you  are  having." 

"  I  hope  that  is  not  your  idea  of  a  woman's 
ambition." 

"  What  better  business  on  a  summer's  day  ?  " 

"  Many  things,"  replied  the  priest,  "  if  she 
has  a  soul  to  expand  and  a  mind  to  cultivate." 

"  But  I  was  speaking  of  the  natural,  un 
varnished  woman  we  all  enjoy  and  are  not 
afraid  of." 

23 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

Miss  Marshall,  in  a  politely  contemptuous 
manner,  inquired,  "Then,  personally,  you  find 
the  intelligent  woman  of  high  ideals  less  con 
genial  than  —  the  other  kind?" 

"  I  find  the  superior  woman  with  a  gift  of  lan 
guage  is  a  thing  that  makes  brave  men  trem 
ble.  I  think  wisdom  should  be  tempered  with 
mercy." 

After  a  pause,  and  with  a  touch  of  sarcasm, 
she  replied: 

"  That  is  quite  interesting.  A  fresh  point  of 
view  always  broadens  the  horizon." 

Ignoring  her  tone,  he  answered  in  an  off-hand, 
amiable  way : 

"  Of  course  there  is  no  reason  why  a  woman 
should  not  enter  politics  or  anything  else,  if 
she  wishes.  And  there  is  no  reason  why  a  rose 
should  not  aspire  to  be  a  useful  potato.  But 
potatoes  will  always  be  cheaper  than  roses." 

She  smiled  wearily  and  leaned  back.  As  their 
eyes  met  he  detected  a  look  of  disappointment  — 
perhaps  at  her  discovery  of  yet  one  more  man 
like  all  the  others,  earthy  and  superficial.  But 
she  merely  said,  and  in  a  gentle  tone : 

"You  forget  that  while  all  men  are  wise,  all 
women  are  not  beautiful." 

With  a  deep  sigh  he  replied,  "  The  profundity 
24 


Froth  of  the  Sea 

of  your  contempt  I  can  only  guess  at.     What 
ever  it  is,  I  share  it.     We  are  a  poor  lot. 

"  «  At  thirty,  man  suspects  himself  a  fool ; 
Knows  it  at  forty,  and  reforms  his  plan.' 

Which  is  all  true  except  the  last  line." 

She  smiled.  "  You  are  too  severe.  I  consider 
man  the  highest  form  of  animal  life  —  after  the 
dog  and  the  elephant." 

"  Then  where  does  woman  come  in  ? " 

"  Oh  —  as  man's  satellite  she  is  hard  to  place. 
Her  proper  position  might  be  anywhere  between 
the  peacock  and  the  parrot." 

Pats  shook  his  head,  slowly  and  sadly. 
"  That 's  an  awful  utterance  i " 

"  But  it  enables  you  to  realize  her  vanity  in 
aspiring  to  the  wisdom  of  man." 

Father  Burke  laughed.  "  Fighting  the  Boer, 
Captain  Boyd,  is  a  different  thing  from  skirmish 
ing  with  the  American  girl." 

"  Indeed  it  is  !  For  on  the  battle-field  there 
is  always  one  chance  of  victory.  But  I  have  not 
been  fighting  the  Boers.  I  was  trying  to  help 
the  Boers  against  the  English. " 

"  Ah,  good  !  "  said  the  priest.  "  You  were  on 
the  right  side." 

But  the  lady  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  know 
25 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

about  that.  I  should  have  joined  the  English 
and  fought  against  the  Boers." 

"  But,  my  dear  child,"  exclaimed  Father  Burke, 
"  the  cause  of  the  Boers  is  so  manifestly  the  cause 
of  right  and  justice !  They  were  fighting  for 
their  freedom,  —  the  very  existence  of  their 
country." 

"  Possibly,  but  the  English  officers  are  very 
handsome,  and  so  stylish !  And  the  Boers  are 
common  creatures  —  mostly  farmers." 

Pats  regarded  her  in  surprise.  "  That  does  n't 
affect  the  principle  of  the  thing.  Even  a  farmer 
has  rights." 

"  Principles  are  so  tiresome  !  "  and  she  looked 
away,  as  if  the  subject  wearied  her. 

"  Does  it  make  no  difference  with  your  sym 
pathies,"  he  asked  with  some  earnestness, 
"  whether  a  man  is  in  the  right  or  in  the  wrong  ? 
Would  you  have  had  no  sympathy  for  the 
Greeks  at  Marathon  ?  " 

She  raised  her  eyebrows,  and  with  a  faint 
shrug  replied,  "  I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  Was 
that  an  important  battle  ? " 

"Very." 

"In  South  Africa?" 

Pats  thought,  at  first,  this  question  was  in 
jest.  She  looked  him  serenely  in  the  face,  how- 

26 


Froth  of  the  Sea 

ever,  and  he  saw  nothing  in  her  eyes  but  the 
expectation  of  a  serious  answer  to  a  simple 
question.  Before  he  was  ready  with  a  reply, 
she  inquired  : 

"  Were  you  at  that  battle  ?  " 

He  was  so  bewildered  by  this  question,  and 
from  such  a  woman,  that  for  a  moment  he  could 
not  respond.  Father  Burke,  however,  in  his 
calm,  paternal  voice,  gave  the  required  facts. 

"The  battle  of  Marathon  was  fought  about 
twenty  miles  from  Athens  between  the  Greeks 
and  invading  Persians  nearly  five  hundred  years 
before  Christ." 

"  Ah,  yes,  to  be  sure  !  "  she  murmured,  indif 
ferently,  her  eyes  looking  over  the  sea. 

Pats,  who  was  sitting  in  front  of  his  two  com 
panions,  regarded  her  in  surprise.  As  she  fin 
ished  speaking,  he  turned  away  his  head,  but 
still  watching  her  from  the  corners  of  his  eyes. 
Her  own  glance,  with  an  amused  expression, 
went  at  once  to  his  face,  as  he  anticipated.  He 
laughed  aloud  in  a  frank,  boyish  way  as  their 
eyes  met.  "  I  knew  you  had  some  sinister  mo 
tive  in  that  speech.  You  almost  fooled  me." 

And  she  smiled  as  she  retorted, "  I  was  merely 
trying  to  please  you.  You  say  you  are  averse 
to  intelligence  in  a  woman." 

27 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"Well,  I  take  it  all  back.  I  am  averse  to 
nothing  in  a  woman,  except  absence." 

Father  Burke  took  all  this  in,  and  he  disap 
proved.  Captain  Boyd  was  by  no  means  the 
sort  of  man  he  would  have  selected  for  compan 
ion  to  this  maiden.  The  young  man's  appreci 
ation  of  the  lady  herself  was  too  honest  and  too 
evident.  It  bore,  to  the  observant  priest,  sus 
picious  resemblance  to  a  tender  passion  unskil 
fully  concealed.  Perilous  food  for  a  yearning 
spirit !  Of  course  she  was  heavenly  minded, 
and  spiritual  to  the  last  degree,  at  present ;  but 
she  was  mortal.  And  the  soul  of  a  girl  like  El 
inor  Marshall  was  too  precious  an  object  to  be 
thrown  away  on  a  single  individual  —  above  all, 
on  a  Protestant.  Was  it  not  already  the  prop 
erty  of  The  Church  ?  And  then,  there  was  lit 
tle  consolation  in  the  knowledge  that  she  was  to 
be  in  constant  intercourse  with  this  man  for  a 
week,  and  during  that  time  beyond  all  priestly 
influence. 

The  Maid  of  the  North,  until  she  passed 
Deer  Island,  bore  a  cheerful  band  of  passen 
gers.  Then,  in  the  open  sea,  she  turned  her 
nose  a  little  more  to  the  north,  and  while  riding 
the  waves  as  merrily  as  ever,  she  did  it  with  a 

28 


Froth  of  the  Sea 

greater  variety  of  motion.  And  this  variety  of 
motion,  a  complex,  unhallowed  shifting  of  the 
deck,  first  sidewise  down,  then  lengthwise  up, 
then  all  together  and  further  down  —  with  a 
nauseating  quiver  —  was  emphasized  by  zephyrs 
from  the  engine-room  and  kitchen  —  zephyrs 
redolent  with  oil  and  cooking  and  bilge  water. 
All  these,  in  time,  began  to  trifle  with  the  inte 
riors  of  certain  passengers,  and  to  paralyze  their 
mirth. 

Among  early  victims  was  Mr.  Appleton  Mar 
shall.  After  storing  his  mind  with  the  financial 
news  and  social  gossip  of  the  morning  paper,  he 
had  rejoined  his  friends.  Sitting  beside  his  niece, 
he  participated,  at  intervals,  in  the  conversation, 
his  manner  becoming  more  and  more  distant 
until,  at  last,  it  vanished  altogether.  To  all  who 
cared  to  see,  it  was  plain  that  this  stately  and 
usually  complacent  gentleman  was  losing  interest 
in  external  matters. 

He  seemed  annoyed  when  a  steward,  about 
one  o  'clock,  appeared  on  deck  and  rang  a  bell, 
announcing  dinner.  At  this  summons  Patrick 
Boyd  took  out  his  watch  and  was  obviously 
astonished  at  the  flight  of  time. 

"  I  had  forgotten  my  friend,"  he  exclaimed, 
and  he  hurried  below. 

29 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

At  the  dinner-table  Elinor  Marshall  sat  be 
tween  her  confessor  and  her  uncle,  the  latter 
clinging  bravely  to  his  post  through  the  soup 
and  fish.  Then,  after  watching  for  a  moment 
the  various  viands  as  they  rose  and  fell  with  the 
heaving  of  the  ship,  accompanied,  as  it  seemed 
to  him,  by  a  similar  rising  and  sinking  of  his 
own  digestive  apparatus,  he  remarked,  with  some 
severity,  th^t  he  felt  no  hunger.  And  he  left 
the  table  with  dignity,  yet  with  a  certain  expedi 
tion.  As  the  uncle  disappeared,  Patrick  Boyd 
came  in  and  took  a  seat  opposite  the  lady  and 
the  priest. 

"How  did  you  find  your  friend?"  Father 
Burke  inquired. 

"  Discouraged." 

"  Poor  fellow  !     Nothing  serious,  I  hope." 

"  No.  But  he  does  n't  quite  understand  this 
starting  right  off  again  on  another  voyage." 

"  Is  he  —  er —  is  his  mind  affected  ?  " 

This  question  appeared  to  surprise  Captain 
Boyd.  "  No.  But  they  have  fastened  him  to 
a  windlass,  near  the  engine-room,  and  he  re 
sents  it." 

This  reply  merely  intensified  the  curiosity 
of  the  questioner. 

"  Did  you  say  they  have  fastened  him  ?  " 
30 


Froth  of  the  Sea 

"  Yes.     It  seems  to  be  a  rule  of  the  boat." 

The  young  lady  also  opened  her  eyes.  After 
a  pause,  she  inquired,  in  a  low  voice,  "  Is  he 
dangerous  ? " 

"  No,  indeed !     Not  at  all ! " 

"  Then  why  tie  him  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  rule  of  the  boat,  as  I  said." 

"  A  rule  of  the  boat  to  tie  passengers  ?  " 

At  this  question  Pats  smiled,  for  a  light  broke 
in  upon  him.  "  My  friend  is  a  dog.  I  thought 
I  told  you." 

"  A  dog  !  "  and  she  seemed  to  find  diversion 
in  the  seriousness  with  which  Father  Burke  ac 
cepted  the  explanation.  "  I  love  dogs.  Why 
shouldn't  I  go  down  and  see  him  ? " 

"  The  honor  would  be  appreciated." 

'"  I  will  go  after  dinner.  What  sort  of  a  dog 
is  he?" 

«  A  setter." 

"  And  what  is  his  name  ?  " 

Pats  hesitated.  "  Do  you  really  wish  to 
know  ? " 

"Of  course!" 

^ell,   his  full   name  is  Jan   Bartholomeus 
Vlotens     Couwenhorn     Van    der    Heist 
iburgh." 
'hen  he  is  Dutch." 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"Yes.  He  was  the  property  of  four  officers, 
and  each  owner  bestowed  a  portion  of  his 
name." 

"  What  do  you  call  him  for  short  ?  " 

"  Solomon." 

"  Solomon  ! " 

"At  first  we  called  him  Jan,  but  the  other 
three  sponsors  objected.  They  said  it  was  favor 
itism.  So  we  all  agreed  on  Solomon  for  every 
day  use." 

"  And  he  never  resented  it  ? " 

"No.  He  understood  it  as  a  tribute  to  his 
extraordinary  wisdom." 

She  seemed  amused.  "  Is  he  so  very 
remarkable  ? " 

"  Well,"  said  Pats,  laying  down  his  knife  and 
fork,  and  giving  his  whole  attention  to  the  sub 
ject,  "  as  to  general  intelligence,  foresight,  logic, 
and  a  knowledge  of  human  nature,  he  is  a  won 
der,  even  for  a  dog.  And  when  it  comes  to  dig 
nity  and  tact,  ease  of  manner  and  freedom  from 
personal  vanity,  why  —  the  other  Solomon  was 
a  beginner." 

She  nodded  and  smiled  approval.  <c  I  know 
something  of  dogs  and  men,  and  I  can  easily 
believe  it.  Certain  men  exist,  however,  who 
are  mentally  superior  to  dogs.  But  it's  the 

32 


Froth  of  the  Sea 

moral  gulf  between  the  two  species  that  is  so 
disheartening." 

"All  owing  to  the  fatal  power  of  speech." 
"  Possibly." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  If  dogs  could  talk,  they 
would  abuse  the  power,  as  humans  do,  and  soon 
descend  to  the  human  level.  They  would  lose 
the  dignity  that  silence  alone  bestows,  and  be 
come  bores  —  like  the  rest  of  us."  With  a 
deferential  movement  of  his  head  toward  the 
priest,  he  added,  "  Except  as  they  apply  to  my 
self,  these  remarks  are  in  no  way  personal." 

As  Father  Burke,  with  a  perfunctory  smile, 
bowed  acknowledgment,  the  girl  at  his  side 
inquired,  with  a  serious  face,  "  Well,  what  can 
be  done  ? " 

Pats,  with  equal  seriousness,  replied,  "  How 
would  it  do  to  establish  an  institute  for  the 
propagation  of  silence  ?  " 

"  The  millennium  would  be  in  sight  1 "  she 
exclaimed. 

d  of  rhetoric  and  declamation 
in  words ;  show  the  pupils  by 
example  how  much  better  they 

mouths  are  not  open." 
jle  idea !    And  award  medals  to 
che  highest  flights  of  silence." 
33 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"The  very  thought  is  restful,"  said  Pats. 
"And  would  you  mind  if  I  offered  Solomon 
a  professorship  ? " 

"Not  at  all!  It  would  look  rather  well  in 
the  catalogue,  f  Solomon  Boyd,  Instructor  in 
Moral  Philosophy  and  Deportment." 

With  a  glance  at  the  mirthless  face  of  the 
reverend  gentleman  beside  her,  she  added,  "  And 
on  the  dome  of  the  college  shall  be  a  colossal 
statue  of  Father  Burke,  in  solid  gold.  He  has 
not  uttered  a  word  in  half  an  hour." 

The  priest  answered  pleasantly,  but  the  tone 
of  the  conversation  had  given  him  little  pleasure. 
Folly  was  in  the  air,  and  Elinor  Marshall,  to 
his  surprise,  seemed  in  harmony  with  it.  Here 
tofore  he  had  known  her  as  a  thoughtful,  serious- 
minded  woman,  with  a  leaning  to  melancholy ; 
and  this  unexpected  and  evidently  enjoyable 
flight  —  or  plunge  —  into  pure  nonsense,  caused 
him  a  distinct  uneasiness.  The  girl  was  bright 
ening  up,  even  becoming  merry ;  a  state  of  mind 
that  never  leads  to  a  nunnery. 

In  this  conversation,  which  ran  on  with  rare 
intervals  of  seriousness  until  the  meal  was  ended, 
Father  Burke  took  no  part.  And  when  the 
younger  people  had  gone  below  for  their  inter 
view  with  Solomon,  he  decided,  after  long  re- 

34 


Froth  of  the  Sea 

flection,  that  considering  the  gravity  of  the  case 
his  obvious  duty  was  to  drop  a  word  in  the 
lady's  ear  concerning  this  new  acquaintance. 
The  rest  of  the  Boyds  —  the  two  sisters  — 
were  good  Catholics,  and  from  them  there  was 
nothing  to  fear.  But  if  he,  Father  Burke, 
could  counteract  the  influence  of  this  interesting 
heretic,  it  would  be  a  pious  work.  He  must 
find  his  opportunity  for  an  earnest  conversation, 
and  before  she  landed. 

The  more  he  meditated,  the  more  anxious 
he  became.  But  Fate,  the  practical  joker,  — 
the  fickle,  the  ruthless,  the  forever  mocking, — 
was  only  waiting  to  lay  his  enemy  at  his  feet. 


35 


Ill 

A   FOOL  AT   THIRTY 

TOWARD  the  end  of  that  day  it  became 
evident,  in  the  west,  that  preparations 
were  going  on  for  an  American  sunset. 
Preliminary   colors,  chiefly  gold   and   crimson, 
crept   swiftly   across   the    sky.      These   colors, 
more  dazzling  as  the  sun  approached  the  water, 
were   caught  and  tossed  about  upon   the  sur 
face  of  the  sea  until  all  the  universe  seemed 
ablaze. 

Of  this  gorgeous  spectacle  Elinor  Marshall, 
in  a  sheltered  corner  of  the  deck,  was  an  ap 
preciative  witness. 

Pats,  in  his  mercy,  had  decided  to  allow  the 
lady  a  respite  from  his  society,  at  least  during  a 
portion  of  the  afternoon.  The  lady,  however, 
was  so  much  more  interesting  than  anything  else 
aboard  that  he  finally  ignored  his  better  judgment. 

36 


A  Fool  at  Thirty 

And  now,  leaning  against  the  rail  in  front  of  her, 
he  found  the  sunset  duller,  more  monotonous  and 
commonplace  than  the  human  combination  in  the 
steamer-chair.  She,  however,  her  head  thrown 
back,  with  half-closed  eyes,  seemed  fascinated  by 
the  glories  in  the  west,  and  almost  unconscious  of 
his  presence.  As  too  much  staring  might  cause 
annoyance,  he  did  most  of  it  on  the  sly.  And  the 
opportunity  was  good.  As  a  mystery,  she  proved 
an  absorbing  study:  an  irresistible  blending  of 
contradictions,  of  sympathy  and  reserve,  of  sad 
ness  —  and  of  wit  —  of  a  character  and  tempera 
ment  not  half-divulged.  Whenever  their  eyes 
met,  he  felt  a  mild  commotion,  a  curious,  un 
familiar  excitement,  —  something  that  made  him 
less  at  ease.  For  it  invariably  brought  the 
keenest  anxiety  as  to  her  good  opinion.  He 
also  experienced  a  consciousness  of  guilt ;  why, 
he  knew  not,  unless  from  the  expression  of  her 
eyes.  They  seemed  to  be  reading  his  thoughts, 
and  to  be  a  trifle  saddened  by  the  result.  That, 
in  itself,  was  disconcerting. 

He  began  to  see  why  those  other  fellows  were 

love  with  her.     Although  fireproof  himself, 

understood,  now  that  he  knew  her  better, 

nature  of  the  conflagration  that  devoured 

men  in  Boston. 

37 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

In  her  sensitive  face,  in  her  reserve,  and  in  her 
sometimes  melancholy  air,  he  saw  traces  of  in 
ward  struggles  between  a  passionate,  impulsive, 
pleasure-loving  nature  and  standards  of  virtue 
unattainably  high.  And  when  he  remembered 
that  she  was  doomed  to  the  seclusion  of  a  con 
vent,  that  this  life,  with  every  promise  of  being 
exceptionally  rich  and  full,  was  to  be  crushed, 
deadened  and  forever  lost  to  the  outer  human 
world,  his  resentment  became  difficult  to  sup 
press.  He  wondered,  in  a  hot,  disjointed  way, 
if  there  was  no  possibility  of  a  rescue. 

Awakening  from  a  revery,  she  caught  him  in 
the  act,  regarding  her  with  earnest  eyes,  and  with 
a  frown.  He  also  came  back  to  earth  —  or  to 
the  boat  —  suddenly,  and  he  observed  a  slight 
movement  of  her  eyebrows  as  in  surprise  or  dis 
approval.  With  a  guilty  air,  he  looked  away, 
and  she  wondered  if  the  warmer  color  in  his 
mahogany  cheeks  came  entirely  from  the  sunset. 
After  an  awkward  silence,  he  said. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  staring  at  you.  You 
are  so  very  contradictory,  and  in  so  many  ways, 
that  I  took  the  liberty  of  guessing  at  your  real 
character ;  whether  after  all  you  are  unpleasantly 
perfect,  or  whether  it  is  merely  your  luck  to 
possess  an  awe-inspiring  exterior." 

38 


A  Fool  at  Thirty 

She  was  unable  to  repress  a  laugh.  "  And 
what  have  you  decided  ? " 

"  I  have  not  decided ;  that  is,  not  finally.  I 
keep  arriving  at  new  conclusions.  My  first  im 
pression  was  that  you  were  a  person  of  frigid 
altitudes,  —  severe,  exacting,  and  abnormally 
superior.  Then,  later,  I  have  thought  you 
warm-hearted — even  impulsive:  that  your  in 
difference  is  not  always  real.  But  of  that,  I  am 
not  sure.  Still,  I  believe  you  possess  a  lower 
and  a  better  nature." 

"  You  seem  to  have  made  wonderful  discoveries 
in  a  very  few  hours." 

"  I  have  been  working  hard." 

"  I  hope  the  verdict  is  favorable.'* 

"  Well,  yes  —  in  a  way." 

"So  bad  as  that!" 

"  No,  not  bad  at  all.  It  is  merely  that  you 
have  bullied  your  natural  character.  You  have 
made  it  toe  the  mark  and  behave  itself.  Never 
given  it  any  vacations,  perhaps." 

She  regarded  him  intently,  as  if  in  doubt  as  to 
his  meaning. 

"  But  you  don't  know  the  cause,"  he  added. 

~  le  made  no  reply. 

The  cause,"  he  said,  "  is  the  expression  of 
r  face." 

39 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"Ah!" 

"  Yes.  It  is  impossible  for  any  being  of  earthly 
origin  to  possess  the  celestial  qualities  promised 
in  your  countenance.  It  is  out  of  harmony 
with  terre  .1  A  things.  Why,  when  those  three 
men  put  out  their  hands  this  morning  for  you  to 
touch,  I  held  my  breath  at  their  presumption. 
I  looked  for  three  bolts  from  heaven  to  wither 
the  extended  arms." 

"  And  your  own  face,  Mr.  Boyd,  gives  no  in 
dication  of  the  subtleness  of  your  irony  :  unkind, 
perhaps,  but  extremely  clever." 

"  Irony  !  Never  !  I  had  no  such  thought ! 
I  am  merely  announcing  the  discovery  that  with 
a  different  exterior  you  would  have  been  less 
perfect;  but  more  comfortable." 

"  If  this  is  not  irony,  it  is  something  still 
more  offensive.  I  gave  you  credit  for  a  finer 
touch." 

"  I  may  be  clumsy,  but  not  malicious." 

"  Then  explain." 

"Well,  you  see,  having  a  tender  conscience, 
you  have  felt  a  sense  of  fraud  whenever  con 
fronted  by  your  own  reflection.  Being  human, 
you  have  had,  presumably,  ambitions,  envies, 
appetites,  prejudices,  vanities,  and  other  human 
ills  of  which  the  face  before  you  gave  no  indica- 

40 


A  Fool  at  Thirty 

tion.  And  so,  feeling  the  preternatural  excel 
lence  of  that  face  a  lie,  you  have  tried  to  live  up 
to  it;  that  is,  to  avoid  being  a  humbug.  In 
short,  your  life  has  been  a  strenuous  endeavor 
to  be  unnecessarily  wise  and  imposs.  ^  good." 

As  their  side  of  the  steamer  rose  high  above 
the  sea,  after  an  unusual  plunge,  he  added: 
"  And  I  am  afraid  you  have  succeeded." 

She  remained  silent,  lost  apparently  in  another 
revery,  watching  the  changes  in  the  west. 

The  light  was  fading.  On  sea  and  sky  a 
more  melancholy  tone  had  come,  —  dull,  slaty 
grays  crowding  in  from  every  quarter.  And 
over  the  darkening  waters  there  seemed  a  tragic 
note,  half-threatening,  intensified  by  every  plunge 
of  the  steamer  and  by  the  swish  of  waters  very 
near  the  deck.  There  was  a  touch  of  melan 
choly,  also,  in  the  steady  thumping  of  the 
engines. 

She  said  at  last,  pleasantly,  but  in  a  serious 
tone : 

"  I   have  been   reflecting  on  your   discourse. 

If  ironical,  it  was  unkind.     If  sincere,  it  was  — 

Dt  impertinent  perhaps,  but  certainly  not  justi- 

id  by  our  short  acquaintance." 

"  True :    and  I  beg  your  pardon.     But  was 

correct? " 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  I  hope  not." 

Something  in  her  manner  invited  a  discontin 
uance  of  that  particular  topic.  He  drew  an 
attenuated  hand  across  his  mouth,  changed  his 
position,  as  if  on  the  point  of  saying  more ;  but 
he  held  his  peace. 

Some  minutes  later,  when  Miss  Marshall's 
maid  approached  this  silent  couple,  her  progress, 
owing  to  the  movement  of  the  deck,  consisted  of 
rapid  little  runs  followed  by  sudden  pauses, 
during  which  she  hung  with  one  hand  to  the  rail 
and  with  the  other  clutched  her  hat.  She  had 
come  up  to  ask  if  her  mistress  needed  anything. 
Was  she  warm  enough  ?  Would  she  have  an 
other  wrap  ?  Miss  Marshall  needed  nothing 
herself,  but  asked  for  news  of  Mr.  Appleton 
Marshall,  and  if  Father  Burke  was  feeling  bet 
ter.  Louise  had  seen  nothing  of  Mr.  Marshall 
since  dinner,  but  she  had  left  Father  Burke  re 
clining  in  the  main  saloon,  not  very  sick,  nor 
very  well,  but  lower  in  his  mind.  As  her  maid 
departed,  the  lady  expressed  sympathy  for  the 
suffering  uncle.  "  And  poor  Father  Burke ! 
He  is  terribly  uncomfortable,  I  am  sure." 

"  Yes,"  said  Pats.  "  I  saw  in  his  face  a  look 
of  uncertainty :  the  wavering  faith  that  comes 
from  meals  with  an  upward  tendency." 

42 


A  Fool  at  Thirty 

Pats  thought  this  want  of  sympathy  was 
resented. 

"He  is  a  most  lovable  man,"  she  said,  "of 
fine  character,  and  with  a  splendid  mind.  You 
would  like  him  if  you  knew  him  better." 

Here  was  his  opportunity ;  his  chance  for  a 
rescue.  He  would  snatch  her  from  the  clutches 
of  the  Romish  Brute.  A  few  stabs  in  the 
monster's  vitals  might  accomplish  wonders.  So 
he  answered,  sadly,  in  a  tone  of  brotherly 
affection : 

"  I  like  him  now.  That  is  why  I  regret  that 
he  should  devote  himself  to  such  a  questionable 
enterprise." 

"  What  enterprise  ?  " 

"  His  Church." 

With  a  forced  calmness  she  replied,  "This  is 
the  only  time  I  ever  heard  the  first  religion  of 
Christendom  called  a  f  questionable  enterprise.' " 

"  Leo  X.  spoke  of  it  as  a  *  profitable  fable.' 
Perhaps  that  was  better." 

"  Did  Leo  X.  say  that  of  the  Catholic 
Church?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  Because  you  have  too  high  an  opinion  of 
Leo? " 

43 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  No ;  but  he  was  a  Pope  of  Rome,  and  I 
simply  cannot  believe  it." 

I  "  Some  popes  of  Rome  have  been  awful  ex 

amples  for  the  young." 

"  So  have  men  in  all  positions." 

He  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  Yes,  but 
when  they  set  up  as  Christ's  apostles,  they 
really  should  not  indulge  too  freely  in  assassi 
nation  and  torture:  at  least,  not  out  of  business 
hours." 

Then  in  a  reflective,  somewhat  sorrowful 
manner,  he  continued,  "  But  the  Roman  Enter 
prise  has  two  enemies  that  are  thorns  in  the 
flesh,  the  bath-tub  and  the  printing-press. 
Wherever  they  march  in,  she  marches  out. 
The  three  can't  live  together." 

Of  this  statement  there  was  no  recognition, 
except  a  straightening  up  in  the  steamer-chair. 

He  continued  pleasantly,  "  In  England,  Ger 
many,  and  America,  for  instance,  where  these  ad 
versaries  are  in  vogue,  Catholicism  quits.  As  the 
devil  shrinks  from  the  sign  of  the  Cross,  so  does 
the  Holy  Enterprise  gather  up  its  bloody  skirts 
and  decamp." 

"  Perhaps  you  forget  that  in  the  United 
States  alone  there  are  more  than  seven  million 
Catholics." 

44 


A  Fool  at  Thirty 

"  But  they  are  not  victims  of  the  bath-tub 
habit." 

"  That  is  not  true  !  There  are  thousands  of 
exceptions ! " 

He  laughed  —  an  amiable,  jolly,  yet  trium 
phant  laugh  —  as  he  retorted,  "  You  admit  the 
truth  of  it  when  you  call  them  exceptions." 

In  the  dim  light  which  had  gathered  over 
everything,  he  could  see  the  delicate  eyebrows 
drawing  together  in  a  frown.  But  he  went  on, 
cheerfully,  as  if  giving  offence  had  not  occurred 
to  him,  "  Now  Spain  is  enthusiastically  Catho 
lic.  And  for  ignorance,  —  solid,  comprehensive, 
reliable  ignorance,  —  there  is  nothing  like  it  in 
the  solar  system.  You  can't  hurt  it  with  a 
hammer.  It  defies  competition.  If  a  Spaniard 
were  to  meet  a  bath-tub  on  a  lonely  highway, 
he  would  cross  himself  and  run." 

"  Their  ignorance  is  their  own  fault.  Edu 
cation  and  progress  have  always  been  encour 
aged  by  the  Catholic  Church." 

"Encouraged?     Oh!" 

"  Certainly." 

"  You  mean  by  the  stake  and  boiling  lead  ? " 

"  I  do  not." 

"  When,  for  example,  she  notified  Galileo  that 
she  would  roast  him  alive,  as  she  had  already 

45 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

roasted  Bruno,  if  he  persisted  in  his  heresy  that 
the  earth  was  round  instead  of  flat?  " 

"  If  you  are  happy  in  that  belief,  I  will  not 
destroy  it." 

"  It  is  a  historic  fact,  but  I  am  no  happier 
for  believing  it.  However,  too  much  education 
is  a  nuisance,  and  very  likely  Mamma  Church 
was  wise  in  toasting  an  astronomer  now  and 
then." 

"Your  conclusions  are  rather  entertaining.  I 
am  a  Catholic  myself,  and  my  own  reading  has 
brought  opinions  that  are  quite  different." 

She  spoke  calmly,  but  he  detected  a  less 
friendly  tone.  In  a  joking,  incredulous  manner 
he  replied,  "  Well,  then,  I  am  a  Catholic,  too." 

"  I  am  serious.  My  faith  to  me  is  a  sacred 
thing.  It  has  brought  me  a  more  tranquil 
spirit,  a  deeper  knowledge,  and  a  fuller  concep 
tion  of  what  I  owe  to  others  —  and  to  myself." 

She  was  very  much  in  earnest. 

"  Then  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "  for 
speaking  as  I  did." 

She  tried  to  smile.  "  It  is  more  my  fault 
than  yours.  Religious  discussions  never  do 
any  good." 

Then  she  arose  from  her  chair,  and  he  knew 
from  the  exceeding  dignity  of  her  manner  that 

46 


A  Fool  at  Thirty 

his  offence  was  serious.  But  this  dignity  met  r 
with  cruel  reverses.  As  she  stood  up,  their  side 
of  the  steamer  was  just  starting  on  a  downward 
lurch,  —  one  of  those  long,  deep,  quivering 
plunges,  apparently  for  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 
slow  at  first,  but  gaining  in  rapidity.  And 
Elinor  Marshall,  instead  of  turning  away  with 
frigid  ceremony,  as  she  intended,  first  stood 
irresolute,  as  i^fafeeft  unawares,  —  yet  suspect 
ing  danger,  —  then  tiptoed  forward  and  rushed 
impetuously  into  the  gentleman's  arms.  These 
arms  were  forced  to  encircle  the  sudden  arrival, 
otherwise  both  man  and  woman  would  have 
tumbled  to  the  deck.  Then,  she  pushed  him 
hard  against  the  rail.  But  even  that  was  not 
the  end.  For  there  she  held  him,  to  her  shame, 
pressing  against  him  with  the  whole  weight  of 
her  body.  And  this  lasted,  it  seemed  to  her, 
an  hour  —  a  year  —  a  lifetime  of  mortification 
and  of  helpless  rage ;  the  wind  all  the  time 
screaming  louder  and  louder  with  a  brutish 
glee. 

Her  choking  exclamations  of  chagrin  were 
close  to  his  ears,  and  he  felt  her  hair  against 
his  face.  But  he  was  powerless  to  aid  in  her 
struggles  to  regain  the  lost  equilibrium.  How 
ever  good  his  wishes,  he  could  do  nothing  but 

47 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

stand  as  a  cushion  —  poorly  upholstered  at  that 
—  between  herself  and  the  rail. 

Finally,  at  the  end  of  time,  when  the  deck 
came  up  again,  she  backed  away  with  flaming 
cheeks.  Pats  apologized;  so  did  she.  He 
wished  to  assist  her  to  the  cabin  stairs,  but  the 
offer  was  ignored,  and  she  left  him. 


4« 


IV 

NORTHWARD 

NOT  since  her  change  of  faith  —  never 
in  fact  —  had  Elinor  Marshall  listened 
to  such  open  abuse  of  a  sacred  insti 
tution.  And  the  memory  of  it  kept  her  wide 
awake  during  a  portion  of  the  night 

Although  she  had  decided  to  ignore  that 
argument  of  the  printing-press  and  bath-tub,  it 
wormed  itself  into  the  inner  chambers  of  her 
brain;  and  it  refused  to  make  way  for  better 
thoughts.  As  the  possessor  of  a  depositic  con 
science  she  suffered  the  miseries  of  guilt.  For 
despite  all  reasoning  of  her  own,  she  began  to 
feel  that  unless  those  arguments  were  refuted, 
her  faith  might  suffer :  and,  with  her,  an  untar 
nished  faith  was  vital. 

The  motion  of  her  berth,  the  rhythmic  pound 
ing  of  the  engines,  the  muffled  sound,  at  inter 
vals,  of  feet  upon  the  deck,  all  were  soothing ; 

4  49 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

but  the  remembrance  of  that  discussion,  with  its 
mortifying  climax,  made  sleep  impossible.  This 
childish  sensitiveness  she  fully  realized,  —  and 
despised,  —  but/anerves  achieved  an  easy  victory 
over  reason. 

She  was  glad  when  daylight  came.  Long  be 
fore  the  breakfast  hour  she  left  her  state-room  and 
sought  the  deck  for  fresh  air,  and  for  Father 
Burke.  He,  also  an  early  riser,  was  discovered 
in  the  lee  of  the  upper  cabins,  his  little  prayer- 
book  in  his  hand.  Sitting  close  beside  him  she 
gave,  in  detail,  the  story  of  her  conversation  with 
Mr.  Boyd.  It  was  in  the  nature  of  a  confession, 
but  delivered  in  the  hope  and  in  the  faith  of  the 
enemy's  discomfiture.  She  felt,  of  course,  that 
the  statements  concerning  the  press  and  tub  were 
false  and  foolish,  and  she  knew  that  Father 
Burke  could  tell  her  why. 

Her  confidence  was  not  misplaced.  This 
was  not  the  first  time  Father  Burke  had  been 
called  upon  to  stiffen  the  faith  of  wavering  con 
verts.  Considerable  experience  and  a  perfect 
familiarity  with  the  subject  rendered  the  task  an 
easy  one.  The  tones  of  Father  Burke's  voice 
were,  in  themselves,  almost  sufficient  for  the 
purpose.  Deep,  calm,  mellow,  ravishingly  sym 
pathetic,  they  played  like  celestial  zephyrs  upon 

50 


Northward 

the  chords  of  the  maiden's  heart.  They  filled 
the  inmost  recesses  of  her  soul  with  security 
and  peace.  His  arguments  were  the  old, 
familiar  things,  considerably  damaged  by  Prot 
estants  and  other  heretics ;  but  he  knew  his 
audience.  And  when  the  spell  had  worked, 
when  the  wings  beside  him  ceased  to  flutter,  he 
drove  the  final  bolt. 

"  You  know,  my  child,  that  the  value  of  a 
statement  depends  largely  upon  the  character  of 
him  who  utters  it.  I  have  no  desire  to  injure 
this  young  man,  nor  to  prejudice  you  in  any 
way  against  him.  But  it  is  clearly  my  duty  to 
warn  you  that  he  is  not  a  person  with  whom  it 
would  be  safe  for  you  to  permit  a  very  close 
acquaintance." 

"  You  need  have  no  anxiety  on  that  point." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  But  tell  me  what  you  know  about  him, 
Father  Burke.  His  family  never  mentions  his 
name,  and  I  supposed  there  was  something  to 
conceal.  Was  it  anything  very  bad  ?  " 

"  Yes,  bad  enough.  He  is  a  wilful  man, 
of  a  perverse  and  violent  temper.  His  utter 
ances  of  yesterday  are  in  perfect  accord  with 
the  spirit  he  displayed  in  youth.  He  broke  his 
father's  heart." 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  From  his  face  one  would  never  suspect  that 
part  of  it — the  violent  temper.  He  appears  to 
be  a  person  of  unusual  cheerfulness  and  serenity, 
—  most  offensively  serene  at  times." 

"  Very  possible,  my  child.  One  of  the 
hardest  things  to  learn,  and  we  seldom  achieve 
it  in  youth,  is  that  outward  appearances  often 
bear  no  relation  to  the  inner  man,  —  that  the 
most  inviting  face  can  hide  a  vicious  nature." 

"  Do  you  really  think  him  a  bad  man  ?  I 
mean  thoroughly  unprincipled  and  wicked  ? 
I  don't  like  him,  but  somehow  it  does  n't  seem 
as  if  he  could  be  utterly  bad,  with  such  a  face." 

"  Ah,  my  daughter,  be  on  your  guard  against 
those  very  things !  Heed  the  voice  of  experi 
ence.  Remember  his  career." 

"  But  what  especial  thing  did  he  do  ?  What 
drove  him  away  from  home  ? " 

"In  a  fit  of  temper  he  tried  to  kill  his 
father." 

"  Really  !  " 

"As  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  I  knew  the 
circumstances." 

"  Awful !     How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"They  were  in  the  garden  in  an  arbor, 
engaged  in  a  controversy.  In  his  anger  he 
struck  the  old  gentleman  and  knocked  him 

52 


Northward 

down,  and  would  have  killed  him  had  not 
others  interfered." 

A  silence  followed,  not  broken  by  Father 
Burke.  He  desired  his  listener  to  realize  the 
iniquity  of  the  deed. 

At  last  she  inquired  half  timidly :      C^\^} 

"  And  there  was  no  provocation  ?  " 

"  None  whatever." 

After  another  pause  she  said,  reflectively : 

"  The  father  had  a  temper  too,  I  fancy,  from 
what  I  know  of  him." 

Toward  the  face  beside  him  the  priest  cast  a 
sidelong  look,  which  was  detected. 

"  I  am  not  defending  the  son,"  she  said 
hastily.  "  Heaven  forbid  !  I  almost  hate  him. 
But  you  must  admit  that  the  father  was  not 
an  especially  lovable  character,  nor  very  gentle 
in  his  ways." 

"He  had  his  faults,  like  the  rest  of  us ;  but 
he  was  a  rare  man,  —  a  religious  man  of  deep 
convictions,  and  the  soul  of  honor." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  I  was  always  afraid 
of  him." 

Father  Burke  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm  and 
said,  very  gently  but  with  unusual  seriousness : 

"  I  should  regret  exceedingly,  my  child,  to 
have  you  listen  to  the  flippant  sacrilege  of  this 

53 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

young  man,  or  be  subjected  to  his  influence  in 
any  way." 

"  There  is  no  cause  for  alarm.  I  shall  have 
as  little  to  do  with  him  as  possible." 

"  An  excellent  resolve.  And  now,  will  you 
grant  me  a  request?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  I  have  no  right  to  exact  a  promise.  I  only 
suggest  that  while  on  this  boat  you  avoid,  as  far 
as  possible,  his  companionship." 

"  I  promise." 

They  both  arose.  His  voice  and  manner 
were  always  impressive,  even  in  ordinary  con 
versation.  But  now  a  moisture  gathered  in  the 
maiden's  eyes  as  he  gazed  benignly  into  her 
face,  and  murmured  in  tones  tremulous  with 
feeling : 

"  May  Heaven  bless  you,  my  daughter,  for 
your  noble  spirit,  and  for  your  unswerving 
devotion  to  a  holy  cause." 

Then  they  went  below  to  breakfast. 

The  girl  was  hungry ;  Father  Burke  was  not. 
The  undulations  of  the  boat-  so  tempered  his 
appetite  that  food  had  lost  its  charm.  A  cup 
of  tea  and  a  bite  of  toast  were  the  limits  of  his 
endeavor.  Even  these  descended  under  protest 
and  threatened  to  return.  When  the  heretic  — 

54 


Northward 

the  victim  of  the  plot  —  appeared  soon  after  and 
took  his  seat  at  the  table,  he  noticed  that  the 
greetings  he  received,  while  friendly  and  all  that 
etiquette  required,  were  less  cordial  than  on  the 
day  before. 

And  this  was  emphasized  later,  when  he 
joined  Miss  Marshall  on  the  deck.  After  a 
moment's  conversation,  she  spoke  of  letters  to 
be  written,  and  went  below. 

And  once  again,  to  make  sure  that  this  dis 
grace  was  no  fancy  of  his  own,  he  approached 
her  as  she  sat  reading,  or  at  least,  with  a  book 
in  her  hand.  In  his  best  and  most  easy 
manner,  he  inquired : 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Magdalen  Islands, 
Miss  Marshall  ? " 

She  looked  up,  and  nodded  pleasantly. 

"  Well,  we  are  passing  them  now." 

"  Indeed  !  " 

"  They  are  off  there  to  the  westward,  between 
twenty  and  thirty  miles  away,  but  out  of  sight, 
of  course." 

Amiably  she  inclined  her  head  in  recognition 
of  the  news,  but  made  no  reply. 

It  began  to  be  awkward  for  Pats.  But  he 
resolved  to  suppress  any  outward  manifestations 
of  that  state.  This  task  was  all  the  harder,  as 

55 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

his  legs  embarrassed  him.  He  knew  them  to 
be  thin,  —  of  a  thinness  that  was  startling  and 
unprecedented,  —  and  now,  as  he  confronted  the 
northeast  wind,  their  shrunken  and  ridiculous 
outlines  were  cruelly  exposed.  He  was  sensi 
tive  about  these  members,  and  he  thought  she 
had  glanced  furtively  in  their  direction.  How 
ever,  with  his  usual  buoyancy  he  continued : 

"  And  now  we  leave  land  behind  us  until  we 
reach  the  northern  shore  of  the  Gulf." 

"Yes?" 

Although  she  gazed  pensively  over  the  water, 
and  with  conspicuous  amiability,  something 
seemed  to  suggest  that  the  present  conversation 
had  reached  a  natural  end.  So  the  skeleton 
moved  away. 

With  Pats  a  hint  was  enough.  During  the 
remainder  of  the  voyage,  at  meals,  and  the  few 
occasions  on  which  he  met  the  lady,  he  also  was 
genial  and  outwardly  undisturbed  ;  but  he  took 
every  care  that  she  should  be  subjected  to  no 
annoyance  from  his  companionship.  This  out 
ward  calmness,  however,  bore  no  resemblance  to 
his  inward  tribulation.  Such  was  his  desire  for 
her  good  opinion  that  this  sudden  plunge  from 
favor  to  disgrace  —  or  at  least,  to  a  frigid  toler 
ation  —  brought  a  keen  distress.  Moreover,  he 

56 


Northward 

was  mortified  at  having  allowed  himself,  under 
any  pretext,  to  jeer  at  her  religion. 

"Ass,  ass!  Impossible  ass!"  he  muttered 
a  dozen  times  that  day. 

Meanwhile,  the  Maid  of  the  North  was 
driving  steadily  along,  always  to  the  north  and 
east.  On  the  morning  of  the  second  day  her 
passengers  had  caught  glimpses,  to  the  larboard, 
of  the  shores  of  Nova  Scotia.  Later  they 
rounded  Cape  Breton,  and  then,  against  a  howl 
ing  wind  and  a  choppy  sea,  headed  north  into 
the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  The  Maid  of  the 
North  was  a  sturdy  boat,  and  though  she 
pitched  and  tossed  in  a  way  that  disarranged 
the  mechanism  of  her  passengers,  she  did  noth 
ing  to  destroy  their  confidence. 

It  was  the  evening  of  this  last  day  of  the 
voyage,  when  Pats,  feeling  the  need  of  compan 
ionship  in  his  misery,  descended  for  a  final 
interview  with  Solomon.  Through  a  dismal 
part  of  the  steamer  he  groped  his  way,  until  his 
eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  gloom.  Solo 
mon  heard  his  step  and  knew  him  from  afar. 
He  whined,  pulled  hard  at  his  chain,  and  stood 
up  on  his  hind  legs,  waving  his  front  ones  in 
excited  welcome. 

"  There  is  somebody  glad  to  see  me,  anyway," 
57 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

thought  Pats,  as  he  sat  on  an  anchor  bar  with 
the  dog's  head  between  his  knees.  There  had 
always  been  more  or  less  conversation  between 
these  two :  not  that  Solomon  understood  the 
exact  meaning  of  all  the  words,  but  he  did 
thoroughly  understand  that  trust  and  affection 
formed  the  bulk  of  the  sentiments  expressed. 
And  these  things  being  the  basis  of  Solomon's 
character  rendered  him  a  sympathetic  and  grate 
ful  listener.  The  monologue,  address,  oration, 
confidence  —  or  whatever  —  was  delivered  in 
a  low  tone,  accompanied  by  strokings  of  the 
listener's  head,  taps,  friendly  pinches,  and  wan 
dering  of  fingers  about  the  ears. 

"  Bad  place  for  a  dog,  old  chap.  Lots  of 
motion  here,  and  smells,  but 't  will  soon  be  over. 
So  cheer  up.  Any  way,  you  are  lots  better  off 
than  I  am.  In  a  single  interview  I  have  secured 
the  contempt  of  an  exceptionally  fine  woman. 
Yes,  your  Pats  has  done  well." 

He  smiled  in  the  darkness,  a  melancholy 
smile. 

"  She  probably  told  everything  to  the  priest, 
and  he  has  explained  to  her  satisfaction  wherein 
I  am  a  fool,  —  a  malicious,  blaspheming,  danger 
ous  villain,  and  a  stupendous  ass.  And  he  is 
right.  Perhaps,  in  time,  —  a  long  time,  —  I  may 

58 


Northward 

learn  that  insulting  people's  religion  is  n't  the 
shortest  road  to  popularity." 

In  his  abstraction  the  hand,  for  an  instant, 
was  withdrawn.  Solomon  protested,  and  the 
attentions  were  resumed.  "  Keep  still,  old  man, 
I  am  not  going.  And  don't  get  that  chain 
around  your  legs.  But  she  is  a  fine  girl,  Sol : 
too  fine,  perhaps.  Just  a  little,  wee  bit  too  ever 
lastingly  high-minded  and  superior  for  ordinary 
dogs  like  us." 

While  administering  these  pearls  of  wisdom 
the  speaker  had  become  interested  in  two  ap 
proaching  figures,  dimly  visible  in  the  obscurity. 
As  they  came  nearer,  he  saw  that  one,  the  older 
of  the  two,  a  man  with  gray  chin  whiskers  and 
a  blue  jersey,  was  drunk.  This  man  stopped, 
and  holding  the  other  by  the  arm  exclaimed: 

"It's  so,  damn  it!  It's  so,  I  tell  yer ! 
What's  he  doin'  this  minute?  He's  blind 
drunk  in  his  cabin.  Why,  the  jag  on  him 
would  sink  a  man-o'-war.  Oh,  he's  a  daisy 
cap'n,  he  is  !  He's  the  champion  navigator." 

"  He  '11  be  all  right  in  the  mornin'." 

"All  right  in  the  mornin' !  It  '11  be  a  week  ! 
And  where  '11  we  be  to-morrer  mornin'  ?  Where 
are  we  —  hie — now  ?  God  knows,  and  he  ain't 
tellin'." 

59 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

With  a  maudlin  gesture  and  a  reverberating 
hiccup,  the  speaker,  following  the  motion  of  the 
boat,  pushed  his  friend  against  the  wall  and  held 
him  there.  "  I  '11  tell  yer  where  we  are  ;  we  are 
more  'n  fifty  miles  east  of  where  we  think  we 
are.  We  ain't  sighted  Anticosti  yet.  And  we 
ain't  goin'  to." 

The  other  man  laughed,  "  Oh,  shut  up,  Bart. 
You  are  gettin'  a  jag  on  yerself." 

"  Yes,  sir  !  We  are  fifty  miles  too  far  to 
easterd  now,  and  by  to-morrer  mornin'  it  '11  be 
a  hundred  miles." 

They  passed  on,  the  older  man  still  holding 
forth.  "  I  Ve  been  this  cruise  a  dozen  times, 
but,  by  God !  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  tried 
to  get  there  by  —  hie  —  headin'  for  Labrador." 

They  disappeared  in  the  darkness,  in  the 
direction  of  the  forecastle,  the  sound  of  their 
footsteps  dying  away  among  the  other  noises  of 
the  boat. 

Here  was  food  for  thought.  But,  then,  the 
man  was  exceeding  drunk.  And  his  companion, 
who  probably  knew  him  well,  paid  no  attention 
to  his  words.  However,  Pats  took  a  look  about 
the  boat  when  he  got  on  deck.  The  pilot  and 
second  officer  were  in  the  wheelhouse,  both 
silent,  serious,  and  attending  to  their  duty.  The 

60 


Northward 

watches  were  all  at  their  posts  and  the  Maid  of 
the  North  was  ploughing  bravely  through  the 
night  as  if  she,  at  least,  had  no  misgivings.  By 
the  time  Pats  went  to  bed,  an  hour  later,  the 
drunken  sailor  was  forgotten. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  slept ;  and  the 
sleep,  when  it  came,  was  fitful.  Perhaps  he  had 
brooded  too  much  over  his  fall  from  grace.  As 
the  night  wore  on  he  was  not  sure,  half  the  time, 
whether  he  was  dreaming  or  awake.  And  so 
eventful  were  his  slumbers,  and  so  real  the  events 
therein,  that  his  dreams  and  his  waking  moments 
became  painfully  intermingled.  As,  for  instance, 
when  he  entered  the  cathedral.  For  a  moment 
he  stood  still,  overcome  by  its  vastness  and  by 
the  size  of  the  congregation.  Truly  an  impos 
ing  assemblage  !  And  the  great  edifice  was  ablaze 
with  light.  A  wedding,  apparently,  for  there, 
before  the  altar,  stood  the  bride,  awaiting  the 
groom. 

As  Pats  sauntered  up  the  nave  she  turned 
about  and  smiled.  And,  lo  !  it  was  Miss  Mar 
shall,  more  beautiful  than  ever,  more  stately  and 
more  patrician,  if  possible,  than  in  her  travelling 
dress.  For  now  she  was  all  in  white  with  a  long 
veil  —  and  orange  blossoms.  She  smiled  at  him 
and  beckoned. 

61 


The  Pinen  of  Lory 

Yes  !  He  was  to  be  the  groom  !  It  was  for 
him  they  waited ! 

He  strove  to  get  ahead.  His  feet  refused  to 
budge.  The  harder  he  tried,  the  tighter  he 
stuck.  He  opened  his  mouth  to  explain,  but 
no  sound  came  forth.  Again  and  again  he  tried. 
Again  and  again  he  failed.  The  huge  congrega 
tion  began  to  murmur  and  he  could  hear  them 
whispering,  "  What  a  fool !  " 

Then,  from  behind  him  came  three  men : 
Billy  Townsend,  the  man  with  the  nose,  and  the 
other  fellow  with  the  flowers.  They  walked  by 
him,  easily,  all  in  wedding  array,  and  they  lined 
up  by  the  bride.  Pats  tried  to  raise  his  voice 
and  stop  it,  but  in  vain.  The  Pope  stepped  for 
ward  and  performed  the  ceremony,  uniting  them 
all  in  marriage.  The  four  bowed  their  heads 
and  received  a  blessing. 

And  when  the  happy  grooms  with  their  bride 
came  down  the  main  aisle,  they  gave  Pats  a 
look,  —  a  look  so  triumphant  and  so  contempt 
uous,  that  it  set  his  soul  afire.  He  boiled  with 
fury  and  humiliation.  But  stir  he  could  not, 
nor  speak.  The  bride's  contempt,  and  she 
showed  it,  was  beyond  endurance.  Gasping 
with  passion,  he  tried  to  rush  forward  and  smite 


62 


Northward 

the  grooms  —  to  scream  —  to  do  anything.  But 
he  could  only  stand  —  immovable. 

Suddenly  the  music  changed.  From  a  stately 
march  it  galloped  into  the  air  of  a  comic  song 
that  he  had  always  hated.  The  Pope,  as  he 
marched  by,  stopped  in  front  of  him  and  cursed 
him  for  a  Protestant.  And  now,  beneath  the 
jewelled  tiara,  Pats  recognized  the  drunken  old 
sailor  with  the  chin  beard. 

But  in  the  midst  of  these  curses  came  tremen 
dous  blows  against  the  outer  walls,  resounding 
through  the  whole  interior  of  the  Cathedral ; 
then  an  awful  voice,  as  from  The  Almighty,  re 
verberated  down  the  aisle : 

"  Time  to  get  up  !     We  are  there  ! " 

The  martyr,  in  the  violence  of  his  struggle, 
banged  his  head  against  the  berth  above,  and 
shouted : 

"Where?" 

"  At  Boyd's  Island,  sir,  where  you  get  off." 


WONDERLAND 

WHEN  Pats,  in  the  early  morning  light, 
stepped  out  upon  the  deck,  he  found, 
enveloping  all  things,  a  thick,  yellow 
fog.      Miss    Marshall,    her   maid,    and    Father 
Burke  stood  peering  over  the  starboard  rail   at 
an  approaching  life-boat.     This  boat  had  been 
ashore  with  baggage,  and  was  now  returning  for 
the  passengers. 

The  fog  lifted  at  intervals,  allowing  fugitive 
glimpses  of  a  wooded  promontory  not  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  away. 

Pats  was  struck  afresh  this  morning  by  Miss 
Marshall's  appearance.  She  wore  a  light  gray 
dress  and  a  hat  with  an  impressive  bunch  of 
black,  and  he  saw,  with  sorrowing  eyes,  that 
she  and  all  that  pertained  to  her  had  become 
more  distantly  patrician,  more  generally  exalted 

64 


Wonderland 

and  unattainable,  if  possible,  than  heretofore. 
He  knew  little  of  women's  dress,  but  in  the 
style  and  cut  of  this  particular  gown  there  ex 
isted  an  indefinable  something  that  warned  him 
off.  No  mortal  woman  in  such  attire  could  fail 
to  realize  her  own  perfection.  He  also  knew 
that  the  apparent  simplicity  of  the  hat  and  gown 
were  delusive.  » 

And  this  woman  was  so  accustomed  to  the 
adoration  of  men  that  it  only  annoyed  her ! 
Verily,  if  there  was  a  gulf  between  them  yester 
day,  to-day  it  had  become  a  shoreless  ocean  ! 

Moreover,  he  thought  he  detected  in  Father 
Burke's  face,  as  they  shook  hands  at  parting,  a 
look  of  triumph  imperfectly  suppressed.  While 
causing  a  mild  chagrin,  it  brought  no  surprise, 
as  the  lady's  manner  this  morning,  although 
civil,  was  of  a  temperature  to  put  the  chill  of 
death  upon  presumptuous  hope. 

After  a  formal  good-by  to  the  uncle,  Pats 
climbed  into  the  little  boat  and  assisted  the  lady 
to  a  seat  in  the  stern.  Then  he  turned  about 
and  held  forth  his  hands  toward  the  maid.  She 
stepped  back  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  he  said.  "  There  is  no 
danger." 

"  But  I  am  not  going  ashore,  sir." 
5  65 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

He  looked  toward  Miss  Marshall,  who  ex 
plained  :  "  Louise  is  not  coming  with  us.  She 
goes  on  to  Quebec,  where  I  am  to  meet  her  in 
a  fortnight." 

So  they  pushed  away  and  rowed  off  into  the 
fog,  waving  adieus  to  the  little  group  that 
watched  them  from  the  Maid  of  the  North. 
Both  kept  their  eyes  upon  the  steamer  until  a 
veil  of  gauze,  ethereal  but  opaque,  closed  in 
between  them.  The  sun,  still  near  the  horizon, 
lit  up  the  mist  with  a  golden  light,  and  Pats 
with  the  haughty  lady  seemed  floating  away 
into  enchanted  space. 

Nearing  the  shore  they  made  out  more  clearly 
the  coast  ahead.  This  fragment  of  primeval 
forest,  its  rocky  sides  rising  fifty  feet  or  there 
abouts  above  the  water,  was  crowned  with  gigan 
tic  pines,  their  tops,  above  the  mist,  all  glowing 
in  the  morning  light.  The  two  passengers  re 
garded  this  scene  in  silence,  impressed  by  its 
savage  beauty.  The  little  pier  at  which  they 
landed,  neglected  and  unsubstantial,  seemed 
barely  strong  enough  to  bear  their  weight. 

"  Is  this  the  only  landing-place  ? "  Pats  de 
manded  of  the  boatswain. 

"  No,  sir.  There 's  another  one  farther  in, 
but  the  tide  isn't  right  for  it." 

66 


Wonderland 

Just  off  the  pier  stood  their  trunks,  and  be 
side  them  two  boxes  and  a  barrel.  Of  the  three 
passengers,  the  gladdest  to  get  ashore,  if  one 
could  judge  by  outward  manifestations,  was 
Solomon.  He  ran  and  barked  and  wheeled 
about,  jumping  against  his  master  as  if  to  im 
part  some  of  his  own  enthusiasm.  His  joy, 
while  less  contagious  than  he  himself  desired, 
produced  one  good  result  in  causing  the  lady 
to  unbend  a  little.  At  first  she  merely  watched 
him  with  amusement,  then  talked  and  played 
with  him,  but  not  freely  and  with  abandon, 
only  so  far  as  was  proper  with  a  dog  whose 
master  had  become  a  suspicious  character.  As 
the  life-boat  disappeared  toward  the  invisible 
steamer,  Pats  turned  to  his  companion. 

"  Welcome  to  this  island,  Miss  Marshall.  I 
am  now  the  host  —  and  your  humble  and  obe 
dient  vassal.  Shall  I  hurry  on  ahead  and  send 
down  for  the  baggage  ?  Or  shall  we  go  on  to 
gether  and  surprise  the  family  ?  " 

Her  lips  parted  to  say :  "  Let  us  go  on 
together,"  but  she  remembered  Father  Burke 
and  his  warning.  So  she  answered,  with  a 
glance  at  the  trunks,  "  Perhaps  you  should  go 
first.  The  sooner  the  baggage  is  removed  the 
better." 

67 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

With  a  little  bow  of  acquiescence  Pats  turned 
and  climbed  the  rocky  path.  She  followed,  but 
at  a  distance,  and  slowly,  that  there  might  be  no 
confusion  in  his  mind  as  to  her  desire  to  walk 
alone.  To  make  doubly  sure  she  paused  about 
half-way  up  and  listened  for  a  moment  to  the 
tumbling  of  the  waves  upon  the  little  beach 
below 

Reaching  the  top  of  this  path  she  found  her 
self  at  the  edge  of  a  forest.  It  was  more  like  a 
grove,  --  a  vast  grove  of  primeval  pines.  Into 
the  shadow  of  this  wood  she  entered,  then 
stopped,  and  gazed  about.  Such  trees  she  hr 
never  seen,  —  an  endless  vista  of  gigantic  trunk, 
like  the  columns  of  a  mighty  cathedral,  all  tow 
ering  to  a  vault  of  green,  far  above  her  head. 
And  this  effect  of  an  interior  —  of  some  bound 
less  temple  —  was  augmented  by  the  smooth, 
brown  floor,  —  a  carpet  of  pine-needles.  With 
upturned  face  and  half-closed  eyes  the  girl  drew 
a  long  deep  breath.  The  fragrance  of  the  pines, 
the  sighing  of  the  wind  through  the  canopy 
above,  all  were  soothing  to  the  senses  ;  and  yet, 
in  a  dreamy  way,  they  stirred  the  imagination. 
This  was  fairy  land  —  the  enchanted  forest  — 
the  land  of  poetry  and  peace  —  of  calm  content, 
far  away  from  common  things.  And  that  un- 

68 


Wonderland 

ending  lullaby  from  above  !  What  music  could 
be  sweeter  ? 

From  this  revery  —  of  longer  duration  than 
she  realized  —  she  was  awakened  by  a  distant 
voice  of  a  person  shouting.  She  could  see  Pats 
off  at  the  end  of  the  point  waving  his  handker 
chief  and  trying  to  attract  the  attention  oi  -some 
body  on  the  water.  Perhaps  the  gardener,  or 
some  fisherman. 

Walking  farther  on,  into  the  woo^  she  be 
came  more  and  more  impressed  by  ^ie  solemn 
iauty  of  this  paradise.  And  the  carpet  of  pine- 
^edles  seemed  placed  there  with  kind  intent  as 
:  to  insure  a  deeper  silence.  She  resolved  to 
spend  much  of  her  time  in  these  woods,  and, 
even  now,  she  found  herself  almost  regretting 
the  proximity  of  her  friends. 

In  the  distance,  between  the  trunks  of  the 
trees,  came  glimpses,  first  of  Solomon,  then  of 
his  master,  moving  hastily  about  as  if  on  urgent 
business.  She  smiled,  a  superior,  tolerant  smile 
at  the  inconsistency  —  and  the  sacrilege  —  of 
haste  or  of  any  kind  of  business  in  the  sacred 
twilight  of  this  grove,  this  realm  of  peace.  And 
so,  she  strolled  about,  resting  at  intervals, 
inhaling  the  odors  of  the  pines,  and  dreaming 
dreams. 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

In  these  reveries  came  no  thoughts  of  time 
until  she  saw  the  enemy  —  Pats  —  approaching. 
His  silent  footsteps  on  the  smooth,  brown  car 
pet  made  him  seem  but  a  spirit  of  the  wood,  — 
some  unsubstantial  denizen  of  this  enchanted 
region.  But  in  his  face  and  manner  there 
was  something  that  dispelled  all  dreams.  He 
stopped  before  her,  out  of  breath.  "  There  is 
no  house  here  ! " 

With  a  frown  of  dismay  she  took  a  backward 
step.  Indicating  by  a  gesture  the  cottage  out 
upon  the  point,  she  said  : 

"  The  house  we  saw  from  the  boat ;  what  is 
that?" 

"  I  cannot  imagine.  But  it  is  no  gardener's 
cottage." 

"Then  what  is  it?" 

"  Heaven  knows,"  he  answered  with  a  joy 
less  smile.  "  It  looks  like  a  room  in  a  museum, 
or  a  bric-a-brac  shop." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  there  is  no  other 
house  ? " 

"  I  have  been  over  the  whole  point.  I 
climbed  that  cliff,  behind  there,  and  got  a  view 
of  the  country  all  about  There  is  not  a  house 
in  sight." 

"  Impossible ! " 

70 


Wonderland 

"  Nor  a  settlement  of  any  kind." 

"  Surely,  somebody  can  give  us  information." 

"  So  it  would  seem,  but  I  have  hunted  in 
vain  for  a  human  being." 

"  The  people  you  were  calling  to  from  the 
cliff,  could  n't  they  tell  you  something  ?  " 

"  There  were  no  people  there.  I  was  trying 
to  stop  the  steamer." 

She  regarded  him  in  fresh  alarm.  "  Do  you 
mean  they  have  landed  us  out  of  our  way  ?  —  at 
the  wrong  place  ?  " 

He  hesitated.  "  I  am  not  sure.  But  we  can 
always  get  the  people  of  this  cottage  to  take  us 
along  in  their  boat.  It  is  still  early  ;  only  nine 
o'clock." 

As  they  walked  toward  the  cottage  she  no 
ticed  that  he  was  short  of  breath  and  that  he 
seemed  tired.  But  his  manner  was  cheerful, 
even  inspiriting,  and  while  she  took  care  to  re 
member  that  he  was  still  in  disgrace,  she  felt  her 
own  courage  reviving  under  the  influence  of  his 
livelier  spirits.  Besides,  as  they  stepped  out  of 
the  woods  into  the  open  space  at  the  southern 
end  of  the  point,  —  a  space  about  two  acres  in 
extent  and  covered  with  grass, — and  saw  the 
blue  sea  on  three  sides,  she  found  new  life  in 
the  air  that  came  against  her  face.  In  deep 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

breaths  she  inhaled  this  air.  Turning  her  eyes 
to  her  left  she  beheld  for  the  first  time  the  front 
of  the  building  they  had  sighted  from  the 
steamer.  This  building,  one  story  high,  of 
rough  stone,  was  nearly  sixty  feet  long  by  about 
thirty  feet  in  width. 

"  What  a  fascinating  cottage  !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  It  is  almost  covered  with  ivy  !  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  picturesque,  and  I  am  curious  to 
see  the  sort  of  family  that  lives  in  such  a  place." 

"  Is  no  one  there  now  ?  " 

"  Nobody." 

"  Nor  anywhere  near  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  looked  in  every  direction  — 
and  shouted  in  every  direction.  They  are  prob 
ably  off  in  their  boat." 

As  Pats  and  Elinor  approached  the  building 
and  stood  for  a  moment  before  the  door,  a 
squad  of  hens  and  chickens,  most  of  them  white, 
began  to  gather  about.  They  seemed  very 
trusting  and  not  at  all  afraid.  The  guiding 
spirit  of  the  party  —  a  tall,  self-conscious  rooster, 
attired,  apparently,  in  a  scarlet  cap,  a  light  gray 
suit  with  voluminous  knickerbockers,  and  yel 
low  stockings  —  studied  the  new-comers,  with 
his  head  to  one  side,  expressing  himself  in  sar 
castic  gutturals. 

72 


Wonderland 

"That  fellow,"  said  Pats,  "seems  to  be 
making  side  remarks  about  us,  and  they  are  not 
complimentary." 

His  companion  paid  no  attention  to  this 
speech.  She  had  regretted  her  enthusiasm  over 
the  cottage.  Enthusiasm  might  foster  a  belief 
that  she  was  enjoying  his  society.  So  she  re 
marked,  in  a  colder  tone,  "  I  think  you  had 
better  knock." 

He  knocked.  They  listened  in  silence.  He 
knocked  again.  Still  no  answer.  Then  he 
opened  the  door  and  entered,  she  following 
cautiously.  After  one  swift,  comprehensive  sur 
vey,  she  turned  to  him  in  amazement.  He  was 
watching  her,  expecting  this  effect. 

The  interior  of  the  building  was  practically  a 
single  room.  From  the  objects  contained  it 
might  be  the  hall  of  a  palace,  or  of  an  old 
chateau  —  or  of  a  gallery  in  some  great  mu 
seum.  On  the  walls  hung  splendid  tapestries 
and  rare  old  paintings.  Beneath  them  stood 
Italian  cabinets  of  superb  design,  a  marriage 
chest,  a  Louis  XV.  sofa  in  gilt,  upholstered 
with  Beauvais  tapestry,  chairs  and  bergere  to 
match.  Scattered  about  were  vases  in  old 
Sevres,  clocks  in  ormolu,  miniatures,  and  the 
innumerable  objects  of  ancestral  and  artistic 

73 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

value  pertaining  to  a  noble  house.  Over  all  lay 
the  mellowness  of  age,  those  harmonies  of  color 
that  bewitch  the  antiquary. 

Dumfounding  it  certainly  was,  the  sudden 
transition  from  primeval  nature  without  to  this 
sumptuous  interior.  Conspicuous  in  the  som 
bre  richness  of  these  treasures  were  two  marble 
busts,  standing  on  either  side  of  the  great  tap 
estry  fronting  the  door.  They  were  splendid 
works  of  art,  larger  than  life,  and  represented  a 
lofty  individual  who  might  have  been  a  marshal 
of  France  with  the  Grand  Conde,  and  an 
equally  exalted  personage,  presumably  his  wife. 
These  impressive  ancestors  rested  on  pedestals 
of  Sienna  marble. 

Elinor  Marshall  found  no  words  to  express 
her  amazement.  She  stood  in  silence,  her  eyes, 
in  a  sort  of  bewilderment,  moving  rapidly  about 
the  room.  At  last  in  a  low,  awe-struck  voice 
she  said: 

"  Have  you  no  idea  what  it  all  means  ?  " 

"  None  whatever.  But  I  am  sure  of  one 
thing,  that  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  Boyd's 
Island.  If  such  a  house  as  this  were  anywhere 
within  reach  of  my  sisters,  they  surely  would 
have  mentioned  it." 

«  Oh,  surely  !  " 

74 


Wonderland 

"  It  being  off  here  in  the  wilderness  is  what 
takes  one's  breath  away." 

"  I  can't  understand  it  —  or  even  quite  be 
lieve  it  yet."  Then  forgetting  herself  for  an 
instant,  she  added,  impulsively :  "  Why,  just 
now  I  closed  my  eyes  and  was  surprised,  when 
I  opened  them  again,  to  find  it  still  here." 

"  Yes ;  I  expect  an  old  woman  with  a  hook 
nose  to  wave  a  stick  and  have  the  whole  thing 
vanish." 

As  their  eyes  met  she  almost  smiled.  For 
this  lapse  of  duty  to  her  church  and  to  herself, 
however,  she  atoned  at  once  by  a  sudden 
frigidity.  Turning  away  she  studied  a  huge 
tapestry  that  hung  on  their  left  as  they  entered. 
This  tapestry  extended  almost  across  the  room, 
forming  a  screen  to  a  chamber  behind. 

"  That  is  a  bed-room,"  said  Pats.  "  I  looked 
in,"  and  he  drew  aside  the  tapestry  that  she 
might  enter.  She  shook  her  head  and  stepped 
back.  But  in  spite  of  her  respect  for  the 
owner's  privacy,  and  before  she  could  avert  her 
eyes,  she  caught  a  hasty  glimpse  of  a  monumen 
tal  bed  with  hangings  of  faded  silk  between  its 
massive  columns ;  of  two  portraits  on  the  walls 
and  an  ivory  crucifix.  This  gla.nce  at  the  bed 
room  served  to  increase  her  uneasiness.  Mov- 

75 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

ing  toward  a  table  that  stood  near  the  centre  of 
the  room  she  turned,  and  regarding  Pats  with 
the  lofty,  far-away  air  which  never  failed  to  con 
geal  his  courage,  she  asked : 

"Where  do  you  think  we  are?  How  far 
from  your  house  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  the  remotest  idea.  It  is  hard  to 
guess.  But  I  have  a  suspicion  —  " 

He  hesitated.  "  Suppose  I  go  out  and  make 
another  effort  to  find  these  people."  And  he 
started  for  the  door. 

"  What'is  your  suspicion  ?  " 

He  stopped  in  obvious  uncertainty  as  to  his 
reply.  Looking  away  through  the  open  door, 
he  said:  "Oh,  nothing — except  that  we  are 
not  where  we  want  to  be." 

"Well,  what  else?" 

Pats  met  her  glance  and  saw  that  she  was 
becoming  distrustful.  Standing  with  one  hand 
upon  the  ancient  table,  with  the  tapestries  and 
busts  behind  her,  she  was  a  striking  figure,  and 
in  perfect  harmony  with  the  surrounding  mag 
nificence.  She  reminded  him  of  some  picture 
of  an  angry  queen  at  bay  —  confronting  her 
enemies.  In  her  eyes  and  in  her  manner  he 
clearly  read  that  she  had  resolved  to  know  the 
the  truth.  Moreover,  she  gave  at  this  moment 

76 


Wonderland 

a  distinct  impression  of  being  a  person  of  con 
siderable  spirit.  So,  to  allay  her  suspicions, 
which  he  could  only  guess  at,  he  related,  after 
the  briefest  hesitation,  all  he  had  heard  the 
night  before  between  the  two  sailors,  repeating, 
as  nearly  as  possible,  what  the  drunken  man  had 
said.  When  he  had  finished  she  replied,  calmly, 
but  evidently  repressing  her  indignation  : 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  earlier  ?  —  on 
the  boat,  before  it  was  too  late  ? " 

"  I  did  not  suppose  you  would  care  to  know. 
I  attached  very  little  importance  to  it." 

"Importance!  I  think  I  might  have  had 
some  choice  as  to  being  landed  in  the  wil 
derness  with  you  alone,  or  going  on  to  your 
sisters." 

Pats  regarded  her  in  a  mild  surprise.  Her 
sudden  anger  was  very  real.  He  answered, 
gently :  "  The  man  was  so  drunk  he  hardly 
knew  what  he  was  saying.  His  companion, 
who  probably  knew  him  well,  paid  no  attention 
to  his  words." 

"  But  /  should  have  paid  attention  to  his 
words.  And  so  would  my  uncle,  or  any  friend 
of  mine,  if  he  could  have  heard  him." 

Pats,  taken  aback  at  the  new  light  in  which  he 
stood,  retorted,  with  some  feeling  : 

77 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  I  hope  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  did 
this  intentionally  ? " 

•  "  Then  why  did  you  keep  such  information 
so  carefully  to  yourself?  " 

"  Because  when  I  woke  up  I  found  we  were 
here  —  that  is,  as  I  supposed  —  at  Boyd's  Island. 
Both  the  steward  and  the  first  officer  told  me  so. 
My  only  doubt  when  I  went  to  bed  was  about 
our  getting  here.  And  this  morning  here  we 
were.  It  had  come  out  all  right,  so  far  as  I 
knew." 

With  a  curl  of  her  lip  that  expressed  a  world 
of  incredulity,  she  dropped  into  one  of  the 
chairs  behind  the  table,  and  rested  her  chin 
upon  her  hand. 

In  a  lower  tone,  he  continued : 

"  1  have  never  been  here  before,  and  had 
no  idea  how  it  looked.  Why  did  n't  Father 
Burke  tell  you  this  was  not  the  place  ?  He 
knows  our  island." 

"It  was  foggy.  Nobody  could  see  it ;  and 
he  knew  nothing  of  the  warning  you  were 
keeping  to  yourself." 

Beneath  this  avalanche  of  contempt,  Pats's 
feeble  knees  almost  let  him  to  the  floor. 

"  Miss  Marshall,  at  least  do  me  the  justice 
to  believe  —  " 

78 


Wonderland 

"  Would  you  mind  leaving  me  for  a  time  ? " 
Into  his  hollow  cheeks  came  a  darker  color, 
and  he  closed  his  eyes.  Then,  with  a  glance*  of 
resentment,  he  took  a  step  or  two  in  her  Direc 
tion  as  if  to  speak.  But  instead  of  speaking,  he 
turned  toward  the  open  door  and  walked  slowly 
out. 

For  a  long  time  she  remained  in  the  same 
position,  boiling  with  resentment,  yet  keeping 
back  her  tears.  She  knew  this  coast  was  wild, 
almost  uninhabited,  neither  to  the  east  nor  west 
a  sign  of  life :  behind  them,  northward,  the  un 
ending  forest.  And  the  owner  of  this  myste 
rious  habitation,  —  what  manner  of  man  was  he  ? 
Perhaps  there  were  several.  And  she,  a  woman, 
alone  with  these  men  !  From  such  bitter  re 
flections  she  was  recalled,  slowly,  by  the  realiza 
tion  that  her  eyes  were  resting  upon  a  little 
portrait  about  twice  the  size  of  an  ordinary 
miniature  —  a  woman's  face  —  confronting  her 
from  across  the  table.  It  hung  against  the 
back  of  the  opposite  chair,  on  a  level  with  her 
own  eyes,  and  was  suspended  by  a  narrow 
black  ribbon,  —  an  odd  place  for  a  portrait,  but 
in  glancing  at  the  table  in  front  of  her  she 
thought  she  guessed  the  reason.  Before  the 
place  in  which  she  had  thrown  herself  she 

79 


The  Pines  of  Lory- 
noticed  for  the  first  time  a  plate,  a  pewter  mug, 
a  napkin,  and  a  knife  and  fork.  Evidently  the 
host  expected  to  eat  alone,  for  there  were  no 
other  dishes  on  the  table.  And  the  portrait,  of 
course,  must  be  his  wife,  or  his  mother,  perhaps, 
or  daughter.  It  proved  a  pleasant  face  as  it,  in 
turn,  regarded  her  from  the  little  oval  frame,  — 
rather  plump  and  youthful,  with  a  curious  little 
mouth  and  large  dark  eyes,  with  a  peculiar 
droop  at  the  outer  corners.  The  hair  was 
drawn  up,  away  from  the  forehead ;  the  shoul 
ders  were  bare,  and  a  string  of  pearls  encircled 
the  neck.  She  was  dark,  with  good  features, 
not  strictly  beautiful,  but  gentle  and  somewhat 
melancholy,  in  spite  of  the  mirthful  eyes. 

So  this  was  the  romance  of  their  mysterious 
host !  She  of  the  miniature,  whatever  her  title 
—  wife,  mother,  daughter,  or  sweetheart,  —  was 
ever  present  at  his  table,  looking  into  his  eyes 
across  the  board. 

The  American  girl  felt  a  quickening  interest 
in  this  host.  Was  it  love  that  drove  him  to  the 
wilderness  ?  And  why  did  he  bring  into  it  such 
a  wealth  of  household  gods  ? 

As  she  leaned  back  in  the  old-fashioned  chair, 
her  eyes  wandering  over  the  various  objects  in 
this  unaccountable  abode,  her  imagination  began 

80 


Wonderland 

to  play,  giving  a  life  and  history  to  the  people 
in  the  tapestries  and  portraits.  The  outside 
world  was  almost  forgotten  when  she  was  re 
called  to  herself  by  the  chimes  of  an  enormous 
clock  behind  the  door.  This  triumph  of  a 
previous  century,  after  tolling  twelve,  rambled 
off  with  a  music-box  accompaniment  into  the 
quaint  old  minuet  attributed  to  Louis  XIII. 
Before  it  had  finished,  two  other  clocks  began 
their  midday  strike. 

Elinor  looked  about  in  alarm,  under  a  vague 
impression  that  the  various  objects  in  the  room 
were  coming  to  life.  Then,  with  the  reaction, 
she  smiled  and  thought : 

"  Our  friend  is  methodical  with  his  clocks." 
But  still,  in  this  atmosphere,  she  was  not  at 
ease ;  there  was  an  excess  of  mystery,  too  much 
that  needed  explanation.  And  now  that  it  was 
midday,  the  host  might  return  at  any  moment 
and  find  her  there,  alone.  So  she  went  out; 
and  to  avoid  any  appearance  of  pursuing  Mr. 
Boyd,  she  followed  a  little  path  behind  the 
house  that  led  among  the  pines.  Hardly  had 
she  entered  the  wood,  however,  when  she  saw, 
off  to  her  right  and  not  many  yards  away,  the 
man  she  was  trying  to  escape.  He  was  lying  at 
full  length  along  the  ground,  one  arm  for  a 
6  Si 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

pillow,  his  face  against  the  pine-needles.  In 
this  prostrate  figure  every  line  bore  witness  to  a 
measureless  despair. 

In  her  one  glance  she  had  seen  that  Solomon, 
as  he  sat  by  his  master's  head,  was  following  her 
with  his  eyes.  And  these  eyes  seemed  to  say : 
"  We  stand  or  fall  together,  he  and  I.  So  go 
about  your  business." 

She  also  saw  that  a  warning  from  the  watcher 
had  aroused  the  downcast  figure  ;  for  it  raised 
its  head  and  looked  about.  Mortified  and 
angry  with  herself,  and  still  angrier  with  him, 
she  averted  her  eyes  and  passed  coldly  on  ;  but 
with  the  consolation  of  having  witnessed  some 
indication  of  his  own  misery  and  repentance. 
However,  it  was  an  empty  joy.  Of  what  avail 
his  remorse  ?  The  evil  was  done ;  her  good 
name  was  forever  compromised. 

Preoccupied  with  these  thoughts,  she  halted 
suddenly,  and  with  a  shock.  At  her  feet,  across 
the  little  path  she  had  unconsciously  followed, 
stretched  an  open  grave.  It  was  not  a  fresh  exca 
vation,  for  on  the  bottom  lay  a  covering  of  pine- 
needles.  And  the  rough  pile  of  earth  alongside 
was  also  covered  with  them.  Projecting  into  the 
grave  were  several  roots,  feeders  sent  out  by  the 
great  trees  above ;  and  from  the  stumps  of  other 

82 


Wonderland 

and  larger  roots  it  was  evident  that  he  who  dug 
the  grave  had  been  driven  to  use  the  axe  as  well 
as  the  shovel.  Close  beside  this  grave  was  a 
mound  with  a  wooden  cross  at  the  head. 

"  There,"  she  thought,  "  rests  the  lady  of  the 
miniature  —  perhaps."  This  mound  was  also 
covered  with  pine-needles,  as  if  Nature  were 
helping  some  one  to  forget. 

The  silence  of  this  spot,  the  murmuring  of 
the  wind  among  the  branches  high  above,  all 
tended  to  a  somewhat  mournful  revery ;  and 
she  wondered  how  this  empty  grave  had  been 
cheated  of  its  tenant.  With  reverence  she  gazed 
upon  the  primitive  wooden  cross,  evidently  put 
together  by  inexperienced  hands.  Then  she 
looked  upward,  as  if  to  question  the  voices  in 
the  boughs  above.  But  of  the  empty  grave  and 
its  companion  the  whispering  pines  told  nothing. 

Approaching  footsteps  gave  no  sound  in  this 
forest,  and  she  was  startled  by  a  cough  behind 
her.  It  was  only  Pats,  not  wishing  to  startle 
her  by  a  sudden  presence.  His  face  seemed 
flushed,  and  even  thinner  than  before ;  and 
about  his  mouth  had  come  a  drawn  and  sensi 
tive  look.  But  her  eyes  rested  coldly  upon 
him  as  they  would  rest  upon  any  repugnant 
object  that  she  despised,  but  did  not  fear. 

83 


The  Pines  of  Lory- 
Smiling  with  an  effort,  he  said :  "  Excuse  my 
following  you,  but  it  is  nearly  one  o'clock  and 
time  for  food.  I  am  sure  we  can  find  something 
in  that  cottage." 

"  I  am  not  hungry." 

"  Did  you  have  breakfast  on  the  boat  ? " 

"  No." 

"  Then  you  must  be  hungry." 

"  I  do  not  care  to  eat."  And  she  turned 
away. 

"  Excuse  me,  Miss  Marshall,"  and  he  spoke 
more  seriously,  "  pardon  my  giving  you  advice, 
but  you  have  had  a  hard  morning  and  you  will 
feel  better,  later  on,  for  a  little  food.  As  for 
me,  I  have  had  nothing  since  yesterday,  and 
shall  collapse  without  it.  Suppose  I  go  to  the 
house  and  scrape  up  some  sort  of  a  lunch. 
Won't  you  come  there  in  a  few  minutes?" 

Her  eyes  travelled  frigidly  from  his  face  to 
his  feet.  But  before  she  could  reply,  he  added : 

"  Besides,  the  owner  may  come  back,  now, 
at  any  minute,  and  if  he  finds  us  together  it 
will  save  time  in  our  getting  off." 

Turning  away  to  resume  her  walk  she  an 
swered,  indifferently :  "  Very  well,  I  will  be 
there  soon." 


84 


VI 

THE   SECRET   OF   THE   PINES 

AT  one  o'clock  the  lunch  was  served. 
Pats  had  placed  before  the  lady  a 
portion  of  a  ham,  a  plate  of  crackers, 
some  marmalade,  and  a  bottle  of  claret. 

"  There  are  provisions  in  the  cellar,"  he  said, 
"  to  last  a  year :  sacks  of  flour,  dried  apples, 
preserved  fruits,  potatoes,  all  sorts  of  canned 
things,  and  claret  by  the  dozen." 

As  he  spoke,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  back 
of  the  chair  that  held  the  miniature,  —  the  seat 
opposite  her  own. 

"Don't  sit  there!"  she  exclaimed.  "We 
must  respect  the  customs  of  the  house." 

"  Of  course  !  "  and  he  drew  up  another  seat. 

Food  and  a  little  wine  tended  to  freshen  the 
spirits  of  both  travellers.  Pats  especially  ac 
quired  new  life  and  strength.  The  arrival  of 

85 

\ 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

a  glass  or  two  of  claret  in  his  yearning  stomach 
revived  his  hopes  and  loosened  his  tongue. 
Noticing  that  her  eyes  were  constantly  returning 
to  the  little  portrait  that  faced  her,  he  said,  at 
last: 

"  By  the  way,  there  is  something  in  the  cellar 
that  may  throw  some  light  on  this  lady,  or  on 
that  empty  grave  back  there."  And  he  nodded 
toward  the  pines. 

"What  is  that?" 

"A  coffin." 

He  smiled  at  her  surprise  and  horror.  In  a 
low  voice,  she  murmured : 

"  It  is  empty,  of  course  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  raised  the  lid." 

"  What  can  it  mean  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  idea,  unless  some  one  disappointed 
somebody  else  by  remaining  alive,  when  he  — 
or  she  —  ought  to  be  dead.  That  sometimes 
happens." 

"  It  is  very  mysterious,"  and  she  looked  into 
the  eyes  of  the  miniature  as  if  for  enlightenment. 

"  Very,  indeed  ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  certain 
things  are  pretty  evident.  Such  as  the  character 
of  our  host,  and  various  points  in  his  career." 

"  You  mean  that  he  is  a  hermit  with  a  history? " 

"  Yes,  and  more  specific  than  that !  "  Then, 
86 


The  Secret  of  the  Pines 

turning  about  in  his  chair  and  surveying  the 
room :  "  He  is  an  aristocrat,  to  begin  with. 
These  works  of  art  are  ancestral.  They  are  no 
amateur's  collection.  Moreover,  he  left  France 
because  he  had  to.  A  man  of  his  position  does 
not  bring  his  treasures  into  the  wilderness  for  the 
fun  of  it.  And  when  he  settled  here  he  had  no 
intention  of  being  hunted  up  by  his  friends  — 
or  by  his  enemies." 

Elinor,  with  averted  eyes,  listened  politely, 
but  with  no  encouraging  display  of  interest. 

"  But  let  us  be  sure  he  is  not  within  hearing," 
Pats  added,  and  he  stepped  to  the  door  and 
looked  about.  "  Not  a  sail  in  sight." 

At  this  point  Solomon  renewed  his  efforts  to 
get  his  master  to  follow  him,  but  in  vain. 

"Why  don't  you  go  with  him?  "  said  Elinor. 
"  He  may  have  made  an  important  discovery,  like 
the  graves,  perhaps." 

"  More  likely  a  woodchuck's  hole,  or  a  squirrel 
track.  Besides,"  he  added,  with  a  smile,  as  he 
dropped  into  his  chair  again, "  these  broomsticks 
of  mine  have  collapsed  once  to-day,  and  I  am 
becoming  cautious.  It  has  been  a  lively  morn 
ing —  for  a  convalescent." 

With  a  look  that  was  almost,  but  not  quite, 
sympathetic,  she  replied :  "  You  have  done  too 

87 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

much.  Stay  here  and  rest.  I  will  go  with  him, 
just  for  curiosity." 

She  went  out,  preceded  by  the  bounding 'Sol 
omon.  Through  the  open  door  Pats  watched 
them,  and  into  his  face  came  a  graver  look  as 
he  followed,  with  his  eyes,  the  graceful  figure  in 
the  gray  dress  until  it  disappeared  from  the  sun 
light  among  the  shadows  of  the  forest. 

That  he  and  she  were  stranded  at  a  point  far 
away  from  his  own  home  he  had  little  doubt. 
No  such  extraordinary  house  as  this  could  have 
existed  within  fifty  miles  of  Boyd's  Island  with 
out  his  hearing  of  it.  Moreover,  he  keenly  re 
gretted  on  her  account  his  own  physical  condition. 
Since  rising  from  his  bed  of  fever  he  had  care 
fully  avoided  all  fatigue,  according  to  his  doctor's 
injunction.  But  now,  after  this  morning's  ef 
forts,  his  legs  were  weak  and  his  head  was  flighty. 
Things  showed  a  tendency  to  dance  before  his  eyes 
in  a  way  that  he  had  not  experienced  heretofore. 
When  he  lay  upon  the  ground  an  hour  ago  he 
did  it,  among  other  reasons,  to  avoid  tumbling 
from  dizziness  and  exhaustion. 

The  lady's  situation  was  bad  enough  already. 
To  have  a  collapsible  man  upon  her  hands  was 
a  supreme  and  final  calamity  that  he  wished  to 
spare  her.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 

88 


The  Secret  of  the  Pines 

rested  his  feet  on  the  heavy  carving  beneath  the 
table.  How  good  it  was,  this  relaxation  of  all 
one's  muscles! 

The  pompous  rooster,  with  a  few  favorites  of 
his  seraglio,  came  and  stood  about  the  open  door, 
eying  him  in  disapproval,  and  always  muttering. 

In  looking  idly  about  Pats  found  himself 
becoming  interested  in  the  huge  tapestry  ex 
tending  across  the  room  at  his  right,  —  the  one 
that  served  as  a  screen  to  the  bedchamber. 
While  no  expert  in  no  such  matters,  he  rec 
ognized  in  this  tapestry  a  splendid  work  of 
art,  both  from  its  color  and  wealth  of  detail, 
and  from  the  quality  of  its  material.  The  more 
he  studied  it,  the  deeper  became  his  interest  — 
and  his  amusement.  The  scene,  a  formal  Italian 
garden  of  the  sixteenth  century,  of  vast  dimen 
sions,  showed  fountains  and  statues  without 
limit,  and  trees  trimmed  in  fantastic  shapes,  with 
a  chateau  in  the  background.  But  the  central 
group  of  figures  brought  a  smile  to  his  face. 
For,  while  the  gardens  were  filled  with  lords  and 
ladies  of  the  court  of  Henri  III.,  those  in  the 
foreground  being  nearly  the  size  of  life,  —  all  clad 
in  their  richest  attire,  feathers  in  their  hats,  high 
ruffs  about  the  neck,  and  resplendent  with  jewels, 
the  ladies  in  stiff  bodices  and  voluminous  skirts, 

89 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

—  there  were  two  figures  in  the  centre  in  start 
ling  contrast  with  their  overdressed  companions. 
These  two,  a  man  and  a  woman,  wore  nothing 
except  a  garland  of  leaves  about  the  hips. 

Pats  smiled  and  even  forgot  his  fatigue,  as  he 
realized  that  he  was  gazing  upon  a  serious  con 
ception  of  the  Garden  of  Eden.  And  the  bride 
and  groom  showed  no  embarrassment.  The 
groom  was  pointing,  in  an  easy  manner,  to  any 
thing,  anywhere,  while  the  bride,  in  a  graceful 
but  self-conscious  pose,  ignored  his  remarks. 

And  all  the  lords  and  ladies  round  about  ac 
cepted,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  nakedness  of 
this  unconventional  pair.  While  still  fascinated 
by  the  brazen  indifference  of  this  famous  couple, 
and  pleasantly  shocked  by  their  disregard  for  all 
the  rules  of  propriety,  he  was  aroused  by  the 
sudden  appearance  in  the  doorway  of  Elinor 
Marshall.  She  had  evidently  been  hurrying. 
There  was  excitement  in  her  voice,  as  she 
exclaimed : 

"  He  is  here  !     He  has  come  back  !  " 

"The  owner?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  taking  a  nap  on  a  bench,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  point." 

In  another  moment  Pats  was  beside  her,  both 
walking  rapidly  through  the  wood.  Approach- 

90 


The  Secret  of  the  Pines 

ing  the  western  edge  of  the  point,  they  saw,  be 
tween  the  trees,  a  figure  sitting  upon  a  bench, 
overlooking  the  water,  his  back  toward  them. 
With  one  elbow  upon  an  arm  of  the  rustic 
seat,  his  cheek  resting  on  his  hand  and  his 
knees  crossed,  he  seemed  in  full  enjoyment  of 
a  nap. 

Pats  took  a  position  in  front  of  the  sleeper,  at 
a  respectful  distance,  then  said,  in  a  voice  not 
too  loud  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

There  was  no  responsive  movement.  When 
it  became  clear  that  he  had  not  been  heard,  Pats 
stepped  a  very  little  nearer  and  repeated,  in  a 
louder  tone : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

Still  the  sleeper  slept. 

Pats  glanced  at  Elinor  Marshall,  who  smiled, 
involuntarily.  Pats  also  smiled,  as  he  realized 
that  this  ceremonious  and  somewhat  labored 
greeting  had  a  distinctly  comic  side,  especially 
when  so  completely  thrown  away.  However, 
he  was  about  to  repeat  the  salutation  and  in  a 
louder  voice,  when  he  was  struck  by  the  color 
of  the  hand  against  the  cheek.  He  went  nearer 
and,  stooping  down,  looked  up  into  the  sleeper's 
face.  A  glance  was  enough. 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

Slowly  he  straightened  up,  then  reverently 
removed  his  hat. 

Elinor,  with  a  look  of  awe,  came  nearer  and 
whispered : 

"  Dead  !     Is  it  possible  !  " 

For  a  moment  both  stood  in  silence,  looking 
down  upon  the  seated  figure.  It  was  that  of  an 
elderly  man,  short,  and  slight  of  frame,  with  thick 
gray  hair,  and  a  beard  cut  roughly  to  a  point. 
The  face,  brown,  thin,  and  bony,  was  unduly  em 
phasized  by  a  Roman  nose,  too  large  for  the  other 
features.  But  the  face,  as  a  whole,  impressed 
the  two  people  now  regarding  it  as  almost  hand 
some.  He  was  clad  in  a  dark  gray  suit,  and  a 
soft  felt  hat  lay  upon  the  seat  beside  him. 

"  How  long  has  he  been  here,  do  you  think  ?" 
asked  Elinor,  in  a  low  voice. 

"A  day  or  two,  I  should  say.  His  clothes 
are  a  little  damp,  and  there  are  pine-needles  on 
his  shoulders  and  on  his  head." 

"  But  how  dreadfully  sudden  it  must  have 
come !  Not  a  change  in  his  position,  or  in  his 
expression,  even." 

"  An  ideal  death,"  said  Pats.  "  I  have  helped 
bury  a  good  many  men  this  year,  both  friends 
and  enemies,  but  very  few  went  off  as  comfort 
ably  as  this." 

92 


The  Secret  of  the  Pines 

He  took  out  his  watch,  seemed  to  hesitate  a 
moment,  then  said,  reluctantly  : 

"  This  is  bad  for  us,  you  know,  finding  him 
dead  this  way." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  It  means  there  is  no  boat  to  get  away  with." 

A  look  of  alarm  came  into  her  face. 

"  We  may  as  well  face  the  situation,"  he  con 
tinued,  looking  off  over  the  water.  "  This  man 
lived  here  alone,  as  we  know  from  what  we  have 
seen  in  his  house.  And  he  evidently  selected 
this  place,  not  wishing  to  be  disturbed.  We  are 
at  the  end  of  a  bay  at  least  ten  miles  deep,  with 
no  settlement  in  sight.  There  is  nothing  what 
ever  to  bring  a  visitor  in  here.  The  traffic  of 
the  gulf  is  away  out  there,  perhaps  thirty  miles 
from  here." 

She  made  no  reply.  Venturing  to  glance  at 
her  face,  he  saw  there  were  no  signs  of  anger, 
only  a  look  of  anxiety. 

"  I  will  tell  you  just  what  I  think,  Miss  Mar 
shall,  and  you  can  act  accordingly.  I  shall,  of 
course,  do  whatever  you  wish.  But,  as  nearly  as 
I  can  judge,  we  are  prisoners  until  we  can  get 
away  by  tramping  through  the  wilderness." 

He  indicated,  with  a  gesture,  the  broad  cur 
rent  at  their  feet,  washing  the  western  edge  of 

93 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

the  point.  "  That  river  we  can  never  cross  with 
out  a  boat,  or  a  raft ;  and  in  that  direction  —  I 
don't  know  how  many  miles  away  —  is  Boyd's 
Island.  In  the  other  direction,  to  the  east,  there 
is  nothing  but  wilderness  for  an.  indefinite  dis 
tance.  That  is,  I  think  so.  Now,  if  you  prefer, 
I  will  go  up  this  bank  of  the  river  at  once,  tie 
some  logs  together  and  try  for  a  passage ;  then 
push  on  as  fast  as  possible  for  our  place,  or  the 
nearest  settlement,  and  come  back  for  you.  Or, 
I  will  stay  until  we  can  go  on  together.  What 
ever  you  decide  shall  be  done." 

He  had  spoken  rapidly,  and  was  ill  at  ease, 
watching  her  earnestly  all  the  while. 

As  for  her,  she  was  dismayed  by  his  words. 
She  had  been  listening  with  a  growing  terror. 
Now,  she  turned  away  to  conceal  a  tendency  to 
tears.  But  this  was  repressed.  With  no  resent 
ment,  but  with  obvious  emotion,  she  inquired  : 

"  Can  you  get  across  the  river  ?  '* 

"  Very  likely." 

"  If  you  fail,  or  if  anything  happens  to  you, 
what  becomes  of  me  ?  " 

"  You  would  be  here  alone,  and  in  a  very  bad 
plight.  For  that  reason  I  think  I  would  better 
stay  until  we  can  start  together." 

A  slight  gesture  of  resignation  was  her  only 
94 


The  Secret  of  the  Pines 

reply.  There  was  a  pause,  uncomfortable  for 
Pats  from  his  consciousness  of  her  low  opinion 
of  him.  However,  he  continued,  in  a  somewhat 
perfunctory  way,  turning  to  the  silent  occupant 
of  the  bench. 

"  Now,  as  we  take  possession  of  this  place,  the 
least  we  can  do  is  to  give  the  owner  a  decent 
burial.  Fortunately  for  us  a  grave  is  dug  and  a 
coffin  ready." 

"  Yes,  his  grave  and  his  coffin,"  and  she  re 
garded  with  a  gentler  expression  the  sitting 
figure.  "And  I  think  I  know  why  he  dug 
the  grave." 

"  To  save  somebody  else  the  trouble  ?  " 

"To  be  sure  of  resting  beside  his  com 
panion." 

"Of course!  that  explains  it  all.  He  knew 
that  strangers  might  bury  him  in  the  easiest 
place ;  that  they  would  never  chop  through  all 
those  roots." 

He  stepped  around  behind  the  body,  placed 
his  hands  under  the  arms,  and  made  an  effort  to 
raise  it,  but  the  weight  was  beyond  his  strength. 
Looking  toward  his  companion  with  an  apologetic 
smile,  he  said :  "  I  am  sorry  to  be  so  useless, 
but  —  together  we  can  carry  him,  if  you  don't 
mind." 

95 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

At  this  suggestion  Elinor,  with  a  look  of  hor 
ror,  took  a  backward  step. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "  for  suggest 
ing  it.  I  have  been  doing  so  much  of  this  work 
that  I  had  forgotten  how  it  affected  others." 

"What  work?" 

"  Burying  people.  In  the  Transvaal.  One 
morning,  with  a  squad,  I  buried  twenty-eight. 
Nine  of  them  my  own  friends.  So,  if  I  go 
about  this  in  the  simplest  way,  do  not  think 
it  is  from  want  of  sympathy." 

"  I  shall  understand." 

"  Then  I  will  bring  that  wheelbarrow  I  saw 
behind  the  house." 

He  started  off,  then  stopped  as  if  to  say  some 
thing,  but  hesitated. 

"  What  is  it,  Mr.  Boyd  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  that  coffin  is  too  heavy  for  me. 
Would  you  mind  helping  with  it  ? " 

"  No.  And  I  can  help  you  with  the  body, 
too,  if  necessary."  And  together  they  returned 
to  the  cottage. 

Never,  probably,  did  simpler  obsequies  befall 
a  peer  of  France. 

Sitting  up  in  the  same  position  as  on  the  rustic 
bench,  his  chee!c  upon  his  hand,  his  elbow  on 

96 


The  Secret  of  the  Pines 

the  side  of  the  barrow,  the  hermit  was  wheeled 
to  his  final  resting-place  beneath  the  pines.  Be 
side  him,  with  a  helping  hand,  walked  Elinor 
Marshall,  shocked  and  saddened  by  these  awful 
incongruities. 

Behind  came  Solomon. 

Among  the  pines,  in  the  solemn  shade  of  this 
cathedral,  grander  and  more  impressive  than 
any  human  temple,  moved  the  little  procession. 

No  requiem ;  only  the  murmuring  in  the 
boughs  above,  those  far-away  voices,  dearer  to 
him,  perhaps,  —  and  to  his  companion  in  the 
grave  beside,  —  than  all  other  music. 


97 


VII 
THE   CLOUDS   GATHER 

THE  supper  that  evening  was  late. 
After  the  simple  repast  —  of  crackers> 
tongue,  and  a  cup  of  tea  —  Pats  and 
Elinor   strolled  out  into   the   twilight  and    sat 
upon  a  rock.     The  rock  was  at  the  very  tip  of 
the  point,  overlooking  the  water  to  the  south. 

On  the  right,  off  to  the  west,  the  land  showed 
merely  as  a  purple  strip  in  the  fading  light, 
stretching  out  into  the  gulf  a  dozen  miles  or 
more.  Behind  it  the  sinking  sun  had  left  a  bar 
of  crimson  light.  To  the  east  lay  another  head 
land  running,  like  its  neighbor,  many  miles  to 
the  south.  These  two  coasts  formed  a  vast  bay, 
at  whose  northern  extremity  lay  the  little  point 
at  which  Miss  Elinor  Marshall  and  Mr.  Patrick 
Boyd  had  been  landed  by  the  Maid  of  the 
North.  In  the  gathering  gloom  this  prospect, 

98 


The  Clouds  Gather 

with  the  towering  forest  that  lay  behind,  was 
impressive — and  solemn.  And  the  solemnity 
of  the  scene  was  intensified  by  the  primeval 
solitude,  —  the  absence  of  all  sign  of  human 
life. 

Both  travellers  were  silent,  thoughtful,  and 
very  tired.  It  had  been  a  long  day,  and  then 
the  misunderstanding  in  the  middle  of  it  had 
told  considerably  upon  the  nerves  of  both.  To 
Pats  the  most  exhausting  experience  of  all  had 
been  the  business  of  the  baggage,  —  its  transpor 
tation  from  the  beach  below  to  the  house  above. 
Elinor's  trunk,  being  far  too  heavy  for  their 
own  four  hands,  Pats  had  suggested  carrying  the 
trays  up  separately  ;  and  this  was  done.  Certain 
things  from  his  own  trunk  he  had  lugged  off 
into  the  woods,  where,  as  he  said : 

"  There 's  a  little  outbuilding  that  will  do  for 
me.  Not  a  royal  museum  like  this  of  yours, 
but  good  accommodations  for  a  bachelor." 

She  did  not  inquire  as  to  particulars.  The 
gentleman's  bed-chamber  was  not  a  subject  on 
which  she  cared  to  encourage  confidences. 

Her  fatigue  had  merely  created  a  wholesome 
desire  for  rest,  —  the  sleepiness  and  indifference 
that  come  from  weary  muscles.  But  Pats's  ex 
haustion  was  of  a  different  sort.  All  the 

99 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

strength  of  his  body  had  departed.  Every 
muscle,  cord,  and  sinew  was  unstrung.  His 
spine  seemed  on  the  point  of  folding  up.  A 
hollow,  nervous  feeling  had  settled  in  the  back 
of  his  head,  and  being  something  new  it  caused 
him  a  mild  uneasiness.  Moreover,  his  hands 
and  feet  were  cold.  Dispiriting  chills  travelled 
up  and  down  his  back  at  intervals.  This  might 
be  owing  to  the  change  in  temperature,  as  a 
storm  was  evidently  brewing. 

The  wind  from  the  northwest  had  grown 
several  degrees  colder  since  the  sun  went  down, 
and  the  heavens  were  sombre.  There  was  not 
a  star  in  sight.  A  yearning  to  close  his  eyes 
and  go  to  sleep  came  over  him,  but  he  remem 
bered  how  offensive  was  his  presence  to  this 
lady,  even  at  his  best  behavior.  He  must  take 
no  liberties ;  so  he  remarked,  cheerfully,  in  a 
tone  indicative  of  suppressed  exuberance  of 
spirit : 

"I  hope  you  will  not  feel  nervous  in  your 
chateau  to-night." 

"  No,  I  think  not.  It  is  a  weird  place  to 
sleep  in,  however." 

"  Yes,  it  is.  Would  n't  you  like  me  to  sleep 
just  outside,  near  the  door?  I  am  used  to 
camping  out,  you  know." 

100 


The  Clouds  Gather 

"  No,  I  thank  you.  I  shall  get  along  very 
well,  I  have  no  doubt." 

After  that  a  prolonged  silence.  At  last  the 
lady  arose. 

"  I  think  I  shall  go  in,  Mr.  Boyd.  I  find  I 
am  very  tired." 

While  they  were  groping  about  the  cottage  for 
a  lamp,  Elinor  remembered  two  candelabra  that 
stood  upon  a  cabinet,  stately  works  of  art  in 
bronze  and  gilt,  very  heavy,  with  five  candles 
to  each.  One  of  them  was  taken  down. 

"  Don't  light  them  all,"  said  Elinor.  "  We 
must  not  be  extravagant." 

But  Pats  did  light  them  all,  saying  :  "  This 
is  a  special  occasion,  and  you  are  the  guest  of 
honor." 

The  guest  of  honor  looked  around  this  ever- 
surprising  interior  and  experienced  a  peculiar 
sense  of  fear.  She  kept  it  to  herself,  however; 
but  as  her  eyes  moved  swiftly  from  the  life-sized 
figures  in  the  tapestry  to  the  sharply  defined 
busts,  and  then  to  the  canvas  faces,  the  whole 
room  seemed  alive  with  people. 

"  Plenty  of  company  here,"  said  Pats,  reading 
her  expression.  "  But  in  your  chamber,  there, 
you  will  have  fewer  companions,  only  the  host 
and  his  wife."  Then,  with  a  smile,  "  Excuse 

101 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

my  suggesting  it,  if  an  impertinence,  but  if  you 
would  like  to  have  me  take  a  look  under  that 
monumental  bed  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  do  it." 
She  hesitated,  yet  she  knew  she  would  do  it 
herself,  after  he  had  gone.  While  she  was  hesi 
tating,  Pats  drew  aside  the  tapestry  and  passed 
with  the  candelabrum  into  the  chamber.  He 
made  a  careful  survey  of  the  territory  beneath 
the  bed  and  reported  it  free  of  robbers.  Solo 
mon,  also,  was  investigating ;  and  Pats,  who  was 
doing  this  solely  for  Elinor's  peace  of  mind, 
knew  well  that  if  a  human  being  were  anywhere 
about  the  dog  would  long  ago  have  announced 
him.  But  they  made  a  tour  of  the  room,  look 
ing  behind  and  under  the  larger  objects,  lifting 
the  lids  of  the  marriage  chests  and  opening  the 
doors  of  the  cupboard.  Into  the  cellar,  too, 
they  descended,  and  made  a  careful  search.  The 
five  candles  produced  a  weird  effect  in  their  prom 
enade  along  this  subterraneous  apartment,  light 
ing  up  an  astonishing  medley  of  furniture,  garden 
implements,  empty  bottles,  the  posts  and  side 
pieces  of  an  extra  bed,  a  broken  statue,  another 
wheelbarrow,  a  lot  of  kindling  wood,  and  the 
empty  corner  where  the  coffin  had  awaited  its 
mission.  There  seemed  to  be  everything  ex 
cept  the  man  they  were  looking  for. 

1 02 


The  Clouds  Gather 

"  Fearfully  cold  down  here  ! "  Pats's  teeth 
chattered  as  he  spoke,  and  he  shivered  from 
crown  to  heel. 

"  Cold  !  It  does  n't  seem  so  to  me,"  and  her 
tone  suggested  a  somewhat  contemptuous  sur 
prise. 

"To  me  it  is  like  the  chill  of  death."  The 
candles  shook  in  his  hand  as  he  spoke. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  taken  cold,"  and  with 
stately  indifference  she  moved  on  toward  the 
stairs. 

"  Proximity  of  a  Boston  iceberg  more  likely." 
But  this  was  not  spoken  aloud. 

Upstairs,  when  about  to  take  his  departure, 
Pats  was  still  shivering.  As  he  stood  for  a  mo 
ment  before  the  embers  in  the  big  open  fireplace 
at  the  end  of  the  cottage,  his  eyes  rested  upon  a 
chest  near  by,  with  a  rug  and  a  cushion  on  the 
top,  evidently  used  as  a  lounge  by  the  owner. 
After  hesitating  a  moment,  he  asked : 

"  Would  you  object  to  my  occupying  the  top 
of  that  chest,  just  for  to-night  ?  " 

As  she  turned  toward  him  he  detected  a 
straightening  of  the  figure  and  the  now  familiar 
loftiness  of  manner  which  he  knew  to  be  unfail 
ing  signs  of  anger  —  or  contempt.  Possibly 
both. 

103 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  Certainly  not.  If  you  have  a  cold,  it  is 
better  you  should  remain  near  the  fire.  I  have 
no  objections  to  sleeping  in  that  other  house. 
You  say  there  is  another  house." 

"  Oh,  yes !  There  is  another  house,"  he 
hastened  to  explain.  "  And  it 's  plenty  good 
enough.  Of  course  I  shall  go  there.  I  beg 
your  pardon  for  suggesting  anything  else.  I 
forgot  my  resolve.  I  did  n't  realize  what  I  was 
doing." 

"  I  prefer  going  there  myself,"  she  said, 
rapidly.  "  I  much  prefer  it." 

And  she  turned  toward  the  chamber  to  make 
arrangements  for  departure.  But  Pats  stepped 
forward  and  said,  decisively,  and  in  a  tone  that 
surprised  her: 

"  You  stay  here.  I  go  to  the  other  house 
myself." 

He  took  his  hat,  and  with  Solomon  at  his 
heels  strode  rapidly  to  the  door.  There  he 
stopped,  and  with  his  hand  on  the  latch  said, 
more  gently,  in  his  usual  manner : 

"  Would  n't  you  like  Solomon  to  stay  here 
with  you  ?  He  is  lots  of  company,  and  a  pro 
tector." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  looked  with  glacial 
indifference  from  the  man  to  his  dog. 

104 


The  Clouds  Gather 

"You  would  feel  less  lonesome,  I  know." 
Patting  Solomon  on  the  head  and  pointing  to 
the  haughty  figure,  "You  stay  here,  old  man. 
That 's  all  right.  I  '11  see  you  in  the  morning." 

The  dog  clearly  preferred  going  with  his 
master,  but  Pats,  with  a  pleasant  good-night  to 
the  lady,  stepped  out  into  the  darkness  and 
closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Solomon,  with  his  nose  to  the  door,  stood  for 
several  moments  in  silent  protest  against  this 
desertion.  Later,  however,  he  followed  Elinor 
into  the  bed-chamber,  and  although  his  presence 
gave  her  courage  and  was  distinctly  a  solace,  she 
remained  vaguely  apprehensive  and  too  ill  at 
ease  to  undress  and  go  to  bed ;  so,  instead,  she 
lay  on  the  outside  of  it,  in  a  wrapper. 

Without,  the  northeast  wind  had  become  a 
gale.  The  howling  of  the  storm,  together  with 
the  ghostly  silence  of  the  many-peopled  room 
excited  her  imagination  and  quickened  her  fears. 

But  weariness  and  perfect  physical  relaxation 
overcame  exhausted  nerves,  and  at  last  the  lady 
slept. 


105 


VIII 
"WOMEN   ARE   DEVILS"       , 

SO  sound  was  Elinor  Marshall's  sleep  that 
when  she  awoke  the  old  clock  behind 
the  door  was  celebrating,  with  its  usual 
music,  the  hour  of  nine.  From  the  fury  of  the 
rain  upon  the  roof  and  the  sheets  of  water 
coursing  down  the  little  panes  of  the  window  in 
her  chamber,  it  seemed  as  if  a  deluge  had  ar 
rived.  And  upon  opening  the  front  door  she 
stepped  hastily  back  to  avoid  the  water  from 
the  roof  and  the  spattering  from  the  doorstep. 
But  Solomon  was  not  afraid.  He  darted  out 
into  the  rain  and  disappeared  among  the  pines. 

"  Mr.  Boyd  will  surely  get  a  soaking  when 
he  comes  for  his  breakfast,"  she  thought.  And 
she  wondered,  casually,  if  he  had  a  waterproof 
or  an  umbrella.  He  would  soon  appear,  prob 
ably,  and,  as  men  were  always  hungry,  she 

106 


"Women  are  Devils" 

turned  her  attention  to  hunting  up  food  and 
coffee  for  a  breakfast.  These  were  easily  found. 
Having  started  a  fire  and  set  the  table  for  two, 
she  got  the  coffee  under  way.  Crackers,  boiled 
eggs,  sardines,  marmalade,  cold  ham,  and  apples 
were  to  appear  at  this  repast. 

But  at  ten  o'clock  Mr.  Boyd  had  not  ap 
peared.  At  half-past  ten  she  realized  the  folly 
of.  waiting  indefinitely  for  a  man  who  preferred 
his  bed  to  his  breakfast,  and  she  sat  down  alone. 
In  the  midst  of  her  meal,  however,  she  heard 
Solomon  scratching  at  the  door.  No  sooner 
had  he  entered  —  dripping  with  rain  —  than  he 
began  the  same  pantomime  of  entreaty  as  that 
of  yesterday  when  he  tried  to  get  somebody  to 
follow  him.  Now,  perhaps  his  master  was  in 
trouble. 

But  Elinor  remembered  what  Mr.  Boyd  him 
self  had  said,  "He  has  probably  found  a  wood- 
chuck  or  a  squirrel  track." 

Looking  out  into  the  driving  rain  she  decided 
to  take  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  But  Solomon 
was  persistent ;  so  aggressively  persistent  that  in 
the  end  he  became  convincing.  At  last  she  put 
on  her  waterproof  and  plunged  forth  into  the 
tempest,  the  overjoyed  dog  capering  wildly  in 
front.  Straight  into  the  woods  he  led  her. 

107 


The  Pines  of  Lory- 
Only  a  short  distance  had  they  travelled 
among  the  pines  when  she  stopped,  with  a  new 
fear,  at  the  sound  of  voices.  Two  men,  she 
thought,  were  quarrelling.  Then  a  moment 
later,  she  heard  the  fragment  of  a  song.  After 
listening  more  attentively  she  decided  that  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Boyd  was  the  only  one  she  heard. 
But  was  he  intoxicated  ?  All  she  caught  was 
a  senseless,  almost  incoherent  flow  of  language, 
with  laughable  attempts  at  singing.  At  this, 
Elinor  was  on  the  point  of  turning  back, 
prompted  both  by  terror  and  disgust,  when 
Solomon,  with  increasing  vehemence,  renewed 
his  exhortations.  She  yielded,  and  a  few  steps 
farther  the  sight  of  Pats  lying  upon  the  ground 
at  the  foot  of  a  gigantic  pine,  his  valise  beside 
him,  its  contents,  now  soaked  with  rain  and 
scattered  about,  brought  a  twinge  of  remorse. 

So  he  had  done  this  rather  than  oppose  her 
ideas  of  propriety !  And  yesterday,  when  he 
spoke  of  another  house,  she,  in  her  heart,  had 
not  believed  him. 

All  scruples  regarding  intoxication  were  dis 
missed.  She  hastened  forward  and  knelt  beside 
him.  Pats,  with  feverish  face,  lay  on  his  back 
in  wild  delirium.  The  pine-needles  that  formed 
his  bed  were  soggy  with  rain,  and  his  clothing 

108 


"  Women  are  Devils " 

was  soaked.  She  laid  her  hand  against  his  face 
and  found  it  hot.  His  eyes  met  hers  with  no 
sign  of  recognition. 

"  That 's  all  right,"  he  muttered,  rolling  his 
head  from  side  to  side,  "  nobody  denies  it. 
Run  your  own  business  ;  but  I  want  my  clothes. 
Damn  it,  I  'm  freezing  !  " 

His  teeth  chattered  and  he  shook  his  fist  in  an 
invisible  face.  Involuntarily,  from  a  sense  of 
helplessness,  she  looked  vaguely  about  as  if 
seeking  aid. 

Here,  in  the  woods,  was  protection  from  the 
wind,  but  the  branches  aloft  were  moving  and 
tossing  from  the  fury  of  the  gale  above.  The 
usual  murmuring  of  the  pines  had  become  a  roar. 
Great  drops  of  rain,  shaken  from  this  surging 
vault,  fell  in  fitful  but  copious  showers.  This 
constant  roar,  — not  unlike  the  ocean  in  a  gale, — 
the  sombre  light,  the  helpless  and  perhaps  dying 
man  before  her,  the  chill  and  mortal  dampness  of 
all  and  everything  around,  for  an  instant  con 
gealed  her  courage  and  took  away  her  strength. 
But  this  she  fought  against.  All  her  powers  of 
persuasion,  and  all  her  strength,  she  employed 
to  get  him  on  his  feet.  Pats,  although  wild  in 
speech  and  reckless  in  gesture,  was  docile  and 
willing  to  obey.  The  weakness  of  his  own  legs, 

109 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

however,  threatened  to  bring  his  rescuer  and  him 
self  to  the  ground.  And,  all  the  time,  a  constant 
flow  of  crazy  speech  and  foolish,  feeble  song. 

Half-way  to  the  cottage  he  stopped,  wrenched 
his  arm  from  her  grasp  and  demanded,  with  a 
frown:  "I  say;  you  expect  decent  things  of 
a  woman,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,  of  course."  And  she  nodded  assent, 
trying  to  lead  him  on  again.  But  he  pushed 
her  away  and  would  have  fallen  with  the  effort 
had  she  not  caught  him  in  time. 

"Well,  there's  this  about  it,"  he  continued, 
trying  feebly  to  shake  his  arm  from  her  hands 
yet  staggering  along  where  she  led,  "  I  'm  not 
stuck  on  that  woman  or  any  other.  I  'm  not 
in  that  line  of  business.  Do  I  look  like  a 
one-eyed  ass  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  not  at  all !  "  And,  gently,  she  urged 
him  forward. 

"  Because  three  or  four  fools  are  gone  over  her, 
she  thinks  everybody  else  —  oh  !  who  cares,  any 
way  ?  Let  her  think !  " 

It  was  a  zigzag  journey.  He  reeled  and 
plunged,  dragging  her  in  all  directions ;  and 
so  yielding  were  his  knees  that  she  doubted  if 
they  could  bear  him  to  the  house.  Once,  when 
seemingly  on  the  point  of  a  collapse,  he  muttered, 


no 


"Women  are  Devils" 

in  a  confidential  tone  :  "  This  hauling  guns  un 
der  a  frying  sun  does  give  you  a  thirst,  hey?  Say, 
am  I  right,  or  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  are  right.  Come  along  :  just 
a  little  farther." 

"  Did  you  ever  swim  in  champagne  with  your 
mouth  open  ? " 

«  No." 

"  What  a  fool !  " 

Then  he  stopped,  straightened  up  and  sang, 
in  a  die-away,  broken  voice,  with  chattering 
teeth : 

"  See  the  Britons,  Bloody  Britons, 
Millions  of  'em  doncherknow, 
All  a  swarming  up  the  kopje  — 
Just  to  turn  about  an  hopje ! 
O,  where  in  hell  to  go ! 
Bloody  Britons!" 

Grasping  her  roughly  by  the  shoulder,  he 
exclaimed  :  "  Why  don't  you  join  in  the  chorus, 
you  blithering  idiot?  " 

This  song,  in  fragments  and  with  variations, 
he  sang  —  or  rather  tried  to  sing  —  repeatedly. 
At  the  edge  of  the  woods  he  seemed  to  shrink 
from  the  fury  of  the  storm  which  drove,  in  cut 
ting  blasts,  against  their  faces.  And  on  the 
threshold  of  the  cottage  he  again  held  back. 

in 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

In  the  doorway,  leaning  against  the  jamb,  he 
said,  solemnly : 

"  Look  here,  young  feller,  just  mark  my  words, 
women  are  devils.  The  less  you  have  to  do  with 
them  the  better  for  you.  D — n  the  whole  tribe  ! 
That 's  what  I  say  ! " 

But  she  dragged  him  in  and  supported  him  to 
a  chair  before  the  fire.  He  sat  shivering  with 
cold,  his  chin  upon  his  breast,  apparently  ex 
hausted  by  the  walk.  The  water  dripping  from 
his  saturated  garments  formed  puddles  on  the 
floor. 

Elinor,  for  a  moment,  stood  regarding  him  in 
heart-stricken  silence.  Once  more  she  felt  of 
his  clothes,  then,  after  an  inward  struggle,  she 
made  a  resolve.  As  she  did  it  the  color  came 
into  her  cheeks. 


112 


IX 

A   SINNER'S   RECOMPENSE 

ATER  a  lapse  of  time  —  an  unremem- 
bered  period  of  whose  length  he  had 
no  conception  —  Pats  awoke. 

Was  it  a  little  temple  of  carved  wood  in  which 
he  lay  ?  At  each  corner  stood  a  column  ;  above 
him  a  little  dome  of  silk,  ancient  and  much  faded. 
Gradually — and  slowly  —  he  realized  that  he  was 
reposing  on  a  bed  of  vast  dimensions  and  in  a 
room  whose  furnishings  belonged  to  a  previous 
century.  A  mellow,  golden  light  pervaded  the 
apartment.  This  light,  which  gave  to  all  things 
in  the  room  an  air  of  unreality  —  as  in  an  an 
cient  painting  luminous  with  age  —  came  from 
the  sunshine  entering  through  a  piece  of  anti 
quated  silk,  placed  by  considerate  hands  against 
the  window. 

Pats's  wandering  eyes  encountered  a  lady  in  a 
chair.  She  sat  facing  him,  a  few  feet  away,  her 

8  113 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

head  resting  easily  against  the  carved  woodwork 
behind,  a  hand  upon  each  arm  of  the  seat.  She 
was  asleep.  In  this  golden  mist  she  seemed  to 
the  half-dreaming  man  a  vision  from  another 
world  —  something  too  good  to  be  true  —  a 
divine  presence  that  might  vanish  if  he  moved. 
Or,  perhaps,  she  might  fade  back  into  a  frame 
and  prove  to  be  only  another  of  the  portraits 
that  hung  about  the  room.  So  far  as  he  could 
judge,  with  his  slowly  awakening  senses,  he  was 
gazing  upon  the  most  entrancing  face  he  had  ever 
beheld.  At  first  the  face  was  unfamiliar,  but 
soon,  with  returning  memory,  he  recalled  it.  But 
it  seemed  thinner  now.  There  were  dark  lines 
beneath  the  eyes,  and  something  about  the 
mouth  gave  an  impression  of  weariness  and 
care ;  and  these  were  not  in  the  face  as  he  had 
known  it.  However,  the  closed  lids,  and  the 
head  resting  calmly  against  the  back  of  the  high 
chair  made  a  tranquil  picture.  For  a  long  time 
he  lay  immovable,  his  eyes  drinking  in  the  vision. 
There  was  nothing  to  disturb  the  silence  save  the 
solemn  ticking  of  a  clock  in  another  part  of  the 
cottage.  He  heard,  beyond  the  big  tapestry,  the 
sound  of  a  dog  snapping  at  a  fly.  Pats  smiled  and 
wer!d  have  whistled  to  Solomon,  but  he  remem 
bered  the  weary  angel  by  his  bed.  With  a  sort 

114 


A  Sinner's  Recompense 

of  terror  he  recalled  this  lady's  capacity  for 
contempt. 

Being  too  warm  for  comfort  he  pushed,  with 
exceeding  gentleness  and  caution,  the  bed-clothes 
farther  from  his  chin.  But  the  movement, 
although  absolutely  noiseless,  as  he  believed, 
caused  the  eyes  of  the  sleeper  to  open.  She 
arose,  then  stood  beside  him.  A  cool  hand  was 
laid  gently  upon  his  forehead ;  another  drew  up 
the  bed-clothes  to  his  chin,  as  they  were  before. 
With  anxious  eyes  he  studied  her  face,  and  when 
he  found  therein  neither  contempt  nor  aversion 
he  experienced  an  overwhelming  joy.  And  she, 
detecting  in  the  invalid's  eyes  an  unwonted  look, 
bent  over  and  regarded  him  more  intently.  As 
his  eyes  looked  into  hers  he  smiled,  faintly,  ex 
perimentally,  in  humble  adoration.  The  face 
above  him  lit  up  with  pleasure.  In  a  very  low 
tone  she  exclaimed : 

"  You  are  feeling  better !  " 

He  undertook  to  reply  but  no  voice  responded. 
He  tried  again,  and  succeeded  in  whispering : 

"  Has  anything  happened  ?  " 

"You  have  been  very  ill." 

"  How  long  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  eighth  day." 

"  The  eighth  day  ! "     He  frowned  in  a  men- 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

tal  effort  to  unravel  the  past.     "Then  I  must 
have  been  —  out  of  my  head." 

"  Yes,  most  of  the  time."  She  was  watching 
him  with  anxious  eyes.  "  Perhaps  you  had 
better  not  talk  much  now.  Try  and  sleep 
again." 

"No,  I  am  —  full  of  sleep.  Is  this  the  same 
house  —  we  discovered  that  first  day  ?  " 

"Yes." 

He  closed  his  eyes,  and  again  she  rested  a 
hand  upon  his  brow. 

"  Who  is  here  besides  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  one  —  except  Solomon." 

"  Solomon  !  "  and  he  smiled.  "  Is  Solomon 
well  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  !     Very  well." 

"Then  you  have  taken  care  of  me  all  this 
time  ? " 

She  turned  away  and  took  up  a  glass  of  water 
from  a  table  near  the  bed. 

"  Yes ;  Solomon  and  I  together.  Are  you 
thirsty?  Would  you  like  anything?" 

Pats  closed  his  eyes  and  took  a  long  breath. 
There  was  no  use  in  trying  to  say  what  he  felt, 
so  he  answered  in  a  husky  voice,  which  he  found 
difficult  to  control : 

"  Thank  you.     I  am  thirsty." 
116 


A  Sinner's  Recompense 

"  Would  you  like  tea  or  a  glass  of  water  ?  " 

"  Water,  please." 

"  Or,  would  you  prefer  grapes  ?  " 

"  Grapes ! " 

"  Yes,  grapes,  or  oranges,  or  pears,  whichever 
you  prefer." 

His  look  of  incredulity  seemed  to  amuse  her. 
"  Do  you  remember  the  two  boxes  and  the  bar 
rel  left  by  the  Maid  of  the  North  on  the  beach 
with  our  baggage  ?  " 

He  nodded. 

"Well,  one  of  those  boxes  was  filled  with 
fruit." 

"  Is  there  plenty  for  both  of  us  ? " 

"  More  than  enough." 

"  Then  I  will  have  a  glass  of  water  first  and 
then  grapes  —  and  all  the  other  things." 

He  drank  the  water,  and  as  she  took  away  the 
empty  glass,  he  said,  in  a  serious  tone :  "  Miss 
Marshall,  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how  mortified 
I  am  and  how  —  how  —  " 

"Mortified!     At  what?" 

"  All  this  trouble  —  this  —  whole  business." 

"  But  you  certainly  could  not  help  it ! " 

"  That 's  very  kind  of  you,  but  it 's  all  wrong 
—  all  wrong  !  " 

She  smiled  and  moved  away,  and  as  she  drew 
"7 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

aside  the  tapestry  and  disappeared,  he  turned  his 
face  to  the  wall,  and  muttered,  "  Disgraceful ! 
Disgraceful !  I  must  get  well  fast." 

And  he  carried  out  this  resolve.  Every  hour 
brought  new  strength.  In  less  than  a  week  he 
was  out  of  bed  and  sitting  up.  During  this 
early  period  of  convalescence  —  the  period  of 
tremulous  legs  and  ravenous  hunger  —  the 
Fourth  of  July  arrived,  and  they  celebrated  the 
occasion  by  a  sumptuous  dinner.  There  was 
soup,  sardines,  cold  tongue,  dried-apple  sauce, 
baked  potatoes,  fresh  bread,  and  preserved 
pears,  and  the  last  of  the  grapes.  At  table, 
Elinor  faced  the  empty  chair  that  held  the 
miniature,  for  the  absent  lady's  right  to  that 
place  was  always  respected.  Pats  sat  at  the  end 
facing  the  door.  They  dined  at  noon.  A 
bottle  of  claret  was  opened  and  they  drank  to 
the  health  of  Uncle  Sam. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  dinner,  Pats  arose, 
and  with  one  hand  on  the  table  to  reinforce  his 
treacherous  legs,  held  aloft  his  glass.  Looking 
over  to  the  dog,  who  lay  by  the  open  door,  his 
head  upon  his  paws,  he  said  : 

"  Solomon,  here 's  to  a  certain  woman  ;  of  all 
women  on  earth  the  most  unselfish  and  forgiv 
ing,  the  most  perfect  in  spirit  and  far  and  away 

118 


A  Sinner's  Recompense 

the  most  beautiful  —  the  Ministering  Angel  of 
the  Pines.  God  bless  her !  " 

At  these  words  Solomon,  as  if  in  recogni 
tion  of  the  sentiment,  arose  from  his  position 
near  the  door,  walked  to  Elinor's  side  and,  with 
his  habitual  solemnity,  looked  up  into  her 
eyes. 

"  Solomon,"  said  Pats,  "  you  have  the  soul 
of  a  gentleman." 

In  Elinor's  pale  face  there  was  a  warmer  color 
as  she  bent  over  and  caressed  the  dog. 

After  the  dinner  all  three  walked  out  into  the 
pines.  Pats  leaning  on  the  lady's  arm.  The 
day  was  warm.  But  the  gentle,  southerly 
breeze  came  full  of  life  across  the  Gulf.  And  the 
water  itself,  this  day,  was  the  same  deep,  vivid 
blue  as  the  water  that  lies  between  Naples  and 
Vesuvius.  The  convalescent  and  his  nurse 
stopped  once  or  twice  to  drink  in  the  air  —  and 
the  scene. 

Pats  filled  his  lungs  with  a  long,  deep  breath. 
"  I  feel  very  light.  Hold  me  fast,  or  I  may 
float  away." 

Both  his  head  and  his  legs  seemed  flighty  and 
precarious.  Those  two  glasses  of  claret  were 
proving  a  little  too  much  —  they  had  set  his 
brain  a-dancing.  But  this  he  kept  to  himself. 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

She  noticed  the  high  spirits,  but  supposed  them 
merely  an  invalid's  delight  in  getting  out  of 
doors. 

Under  the  big  trees  they  rested  for  a  time,  in 
silence,  Elinor  gazing  out  across  the  point,  over 
the  glistening  sea  beyond.  The  shade  of  the 
pines  they  found  refreshing.  The  convalescent 
lay  at  full  length,  upon  his  back,  looking  up 
with  drowsy  eyes  into  the  cool,  dark  canopy, 
high  above.  Soothing  to  the  senses  was  the 
sighing  of  the  wind  among  the  branches. 

"This  is  good!"  he  murmured.  "I  could 
stay  here  forever." 

"  That  may  be  your  fate,"  and  her  eyes 
moved  sadly  over  the  distant,  sailless  sea.  "It 
is  a  month  to-day  that  we  have  been  here." 

"  So  it  is,  a  whole  month  !  " 

Elinor  sighed.  "  There  is  something  wrong, 
somewhere.  It  seems  to  me  the  natural  —  the 
only  thing  —  would  be  for  somebody  to  hunt 
us  up." 

"  Certainly." 

"  Could  they  have  sailed  by  this  bay  and 
missed  us  ? " 

"  Not  unless  they  were  idiots.  Everybody 
on  the  steamer  knew  we  sailed  into  a  bay  to  get 
here." 

120 


A  Sinner's  Recompense 

"  Still,  they  may  have  missed  us." 

"  Well,  suppose  they  did  go  by  us,  once  or 
twice,  or  several  times  ;  people  don't  abandon 
their  best  friends  and  brothers  in  that  off-hand 
fashion." 

After  a  pause  he  added,  "  Something  may 
have  happened  to  Father  Burke  or  to  Louise." 

"  But  even  then,"  said  Elinor,  turning  toward 
him,  "  would  n't  they  try  and  discover  why  I 
had  not  arrived  ?  And  would  n't  they  hunt 
you  up?" 

"  No,  I  was  to  be  a  surprise.  None  of  them 
knew  I  was  coming.  They  think  I  am  still  in 
South  Africa." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  broken  at  last  by 
Pats.  "  What  a  hideous  practical  joke  I  have 
turned  out !  In  the  first  place  I  strand  you 
here  and  — " 

"  No  !  I  was  very  unjust  that  day  and  have 
repented  —  and  tried  to  atone." 

"  Atone  !  You  !  Angels  defend  us !  If 
atonement  was  due  from  you,  where  am  I  ?  In 
stead  of  getting  you  away,  I  go  out  of  my  head 
and  have  a  fever  —  and  am  fed —  like  a  baby." 

She  smiled.     "  That  is  hardly  your  fault." 

"  Yes,  it  is.  No  man  would  do  it.  Pugs 
and  Persian  cats  do  that  sort  of  thing.  For 

121 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

men  there  are  proper  times  for  giving  out.  But 
there  is  one  thing  I  should  like  to  say  —  that  is, 
that  my  life  is  yours.  This  skeleton  belongs  to 
you,  and  the  soul  that  goes  with  it.  Henceforth 
I  shall  be  your  slave.  I  do  not  aspire  to  be 
treated  as  your  equal ;  just  an  abject,  reverent, 
willing  slave." 

She  smiled  and  played  with  the  ears  of  the 
sleeping  Solomon. 

"  I  am  serious,"  and  Pats  raised  himself  on 
one  elbow.  "  Just  from  plain,  unvarnished 
gratitude  —  if  from  nothing  else  —  I  shall 
always  do  whatever  you  command  —  live,  die, 
steal,  commit  murder,  scrub  floors,  anything  — 
I  don't  care  what." 

"  Do  you  really  mean  it  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

"  Then  stop  talking." 

With  closed  eyes  he  fell  back  into  his  former 
position.  But  again,  partially  raising  himself, 
he  asked,  "  May  I  say  just  one  thing  more  ?  " 

"  No." 

Again  he  fell  back,  and  there  was  silence. 

For  a  time  Elinor  sat  with  folded  hands  gaz 
ing  dreamily  beyond  the  point  over  the  distant 
gulf,  a  dazzling,  vivid  blue  beneath  the  July 
sun.  When  at  last  she  turned  with  a  question 

122 


A  Sinner's  Recompense 

upon  her  lips  and  saw  the  closed  eyes  and  tran 
quil  breathing  of  the  convalescent,  she  held  her 
peace.  Then  came  a  drowsy  sense  of  her  own 
fatigue.  Cautiously,  that  the  sleeper  might  not 
awake,  she  also  reclined,  at  full  length,  and 
closed  her  eyes.  Delicious  was  the  soft  air : 
restful  the  carpet  of  pine-needles.  No  cradle- 
song  could  be  more  soothing  than  the  muffled 
voices  of  the  pines  :  and  the  lady  slept. 

But  Pats  was  not  asleep.  He  soon  opened 
his  eyes  and  gazed  dreamily  upward  among  the 
branches  overhead,  then  moved  his  eyes  in  her 
direction.  For  an  easier  study  of  the  inviting 
creature  not  two  yards  away,  he  partially  raised 
himself  on  an  elbow.  The  contemplation  of 
this  lady  he  had  found  at  all  times  entrancing; 
but  now,  from  her  unconscious  carelessness  and 
freedom  she  became  of  absorbing  interest.  Her 
dignity  was  asleep,  as  it  were :  her  caution  for 
gotten.  With  captivated  eyes  he  drank  in  the 
graceful  outlines  of  her  figure  beneath  the  white 
dress,  the  gentle  movement  of  the  chest,  the 
limp  hands  on  the  pine-needles.  Some  of  the 
pride  and  reserve  of  the  clean-cut,  patrician 
face  —  of  which  he  stood  in  awe —  had  melted 
away  in  slumber. 

Maybe  the  murmur  of  the  pines  with  the 
123 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

drowsy,  languorous  breeze  relaxed  his  conscience ; 
at  all  events  the  contours  of  the  upturned  lips 
were  irresistible.  Silently  he  rolled  over  once  — 
the  soft  carpet  of  pine-needles  abetting  the  ma 
noeuvre  —  until  his  face  was  at  right  angles  to 
her  own,  and  very  near.  Then  cautiously  and 
slowly  he  pressed  his  lips  to  hers.  This  con 
tact  brought  a  thrill  of  ecstasy  —  an  intoxication 
to  his  senses.  But  the  joy  was  brief. 

More  quickly  than  his  startled  wits  could  fol 
low  she  had  pushed  away  his  face  and  risen  to 
her  feet  Erect,  with  burning  cheeks,  she 
looked  down  into  his  startled  eyes  with  an  ex 
pression  that  brought  him  sharply  to  his  senses. 
It  was  a  look  of  amazement,  of  incredulity,  of 
contempt — of  everything  in  short  that  he  had 
hoped  never  to  encounter  in  her  face  again. 
For  a  moment  she  stood  regarding  him,  her 
breast  heaving,  a  stray  lock  of  hair  across  a  hot 
cheek,  the  most  distant,  the  most  exalted,  and 
the  most  beautiful  figure  he  had  ever  seen. 
Then,  without  a  word,  she  walked  away. 
Across  the  open,  sunlit  space  his  eyes  followed 
her,  until,  through  the  doorway  of  the  cottage, 
she  disappeared. 

For  a  moment  he  remained  as  he  was,  upon 
the  ground,  half  reclining,  staring  blankly  at  the 

124 


A  Sinner's  Recompense 

doorway.  Then,  slowly,  he  lowered  himself 
and  lay  at  full  length  along  the  ground,  his  face 
in  his  hands. 

Of  the  flight  of  time  he  had  no  knowledge : 
but,  at  last,  when  he  rose  to  his  feet  he  appeared 
older.  He  was  paler.  His  eyes  were  duller. 
About  the  mouth  had  come  lines  which  seemed 
to  indicate  a  painful  resolution.  But  to  the 
shrunken  legs  he  had  summoned  a  sufficient 
force  to  carry  him,  without  wavering,  to  the  cot 
tage  door.  He  entered  and  dropped,  as  a  man 
uncertain  of  his  strength,  into  the  nearest  chair — 
the  one  beside  the  doorway.  Solomon,  who 
had  followed  at  his  heels,  looked  up  inquiringly 
into  the  emaciated  face.  Its  extraordinary  mel 
ancholy  may  have  alarmed  him.  But  Pats 
paid  no  attention  to  his  dog.  He  looked  at  El 
inor  who  was  ironing,  at  the  heavy  table — the 
dining-table  —  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  Her 
sleeves  were  rolled  back  to  the  elbow ;  her  head 
bent  slightly  over  as  she  worked. 

The  afternoon  sun  flooded  the  space  in  his 
vicinity  and  reached  far  along  the  floor,  touching 
the  skirt  of  her  dress.  Behind  her  the  old  tapes 
try  with  the  two  marble  busts  formed  a  stately 
background.  To  the  new  arrivals  she  paid  no 
attention. 

125 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

After  a  short  rest  to  recover  his  breath,  and 
his  strength,  Pats  cleared  his  throat : 

"  Miss  Marshall,  you  will  never  know,  for  I 
could  not  begin  to  tell  you  —  how  sorry —  how, 
how  ashamed  I  am  for  having  done  —  what 
I  did.  I  don't  ask  you  to  forgive  me.  If 
you  were  my  sister  and  another  man  did  it,  I 
should  —  "  He  leaned  back,  at  a  loss  for  words. 

"  I  don't  say  it  was  the  claret.  I  don't  try 
to  excuse  myself  in  any  way.  But  one  thing  I 
ask  you  to  believe :  that  I  did  not  realize  what 
I  was  doing." 

He  arose  and  stood  with  his  hand  on  the 
back  of  the  chair.  As  he  went  on  his  voice 
grew  less  steady.  "Why,  I  look  upon  you  as 
something  sacred ;  you  are  so  much  finer,  higher, 
better  than  other  people.  In  a  way  I  feel  toward 
you  as  toward  my  mother's  memory;  and  that 
is  a  holy  thing.  I  could  as  soon  insult  one  as 
the  other.  And  I  realize  and  shall  never  forget 
all  that  you  have  done  for  me." 

In  a  voice  over  which  he  seemed  to  be  losing 
control,  he  went  on,  more  rapidly : 

"  And  it 's  more  than  all  that  —  it 's  more  than 
gratitude  and  respect.  I  — "  For  an  instant  he 
hesitated,  then  his  words  came  hotly,  with  a 
reckless  haste.  "  I  love  you  as  I  never  thought 

126 


A  Sinner's  Recompense 

of  loving  any  human  being.  It  began  when  I 
first  saw  you  on  the  wharf.  You  don't  know 
what  it  means.  Why,  I  could  lay  down  my  life 
for  you  —  a  thousand  times  —  and  joyfully." 

From  Elinor  these  words  met  with  no  out 
ward  recognition.  She  went  quietly  on  with  her 
ironing. 

Pats  drew  a  deep  breath,  sank  into  his  chair 
and  muttered,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  I  never  meant 
to  tell  you  that.  Now  I  —  I  —  have  done  it." 

During  the  pause  that  followed  these  last 
words  she  said,  quietly,  without  looking  up : 

"  I  knew  it  already." 

He  straightened  up.     "  Knew  what  already  ?" 

She  lifted  a  collar  she  was  ironing  and  ex 
amined  it,  but  made  no  reply. 

"  You  knew  what  already  ? "  he  repeated. 
"  That  I  was  in  love  with  you  ?  " 

She  nodded,  still  regarding  the  collar. 

"  Impossible  ! " 

She  laid  the  collar  beside  other  collars  already 
ironed  and  took  up  another ;  but  he  heard  no 
answer. 

"How  did  you  know?"  he  asked.  "From 
what?" 

"  From  various  things." 

"  What  things  ? " 

127 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

There  was  no  reply. 

"  From  things  I  did  ?  " 

She  nodded,  rather  solemnly,  and  her  face, 
what  he  could  see  of  it  —  seemed  very  serious. 
Pats  was  watching  her  intently,  and  exclaimed, 
in  surprise  : 

"  That  is  very  curious,  for  I  kept  it  to  my 
self!  " 

"Any  woman  would  have  known." 

Pats  leaned  back,  and  frowned.  A  torturing 
thought  possessed  him.  In  an  anxious  tone  he 
said :  "  I  hope  I  did  not  talk  much  when  I  had 
the  fever." 

As  she  made  no  reply  he  studied  the  back  of 
her  head  for  some  responsive  motion.  But 
none  came. 

"  Did  I  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"Yes." 

A  look  of  terror  came  into  his  face  and  his 
voice  grew  fainter  as  he  asked  :  "  Did  I  talk 
about  you  ? " 

"  Freely." 

With  trembling  fingers  he  felt  for  his  hand 
kerchief  and  drew  it  across  his  brow.  "  Did  I  say 
things  that  —  that —  I  should  be  ashamed  of?  " 

She  nodded. 

Pats  sunk  lower  in  his  chair  and  closed  his 
128 


A  Sinner's  Recompense 

eyes.  Judging  from  the  lines  in  his  cadaverous 
face  the  last  three  minutes  had  added  years  to 
his  age. 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me,"  he  asked  in  a 
deferential  voice,  so  low  that  it  barely  reached 
her,  "whether  they  were  impertinent  and  un- 
gentlemanly  —  or  —  or  — what  ?  " 

"  Everything." 

His  lips  were  dry,  and  on  his  face  came  a 
look  of  anguish  —  of  unspeakable  shame.  There 
was  a  pause,  broken  only  by  the  faint  sound  of 
the  flatiron. 

"Then  I  really  talked  about  you  —  at  one 
time  ? " 

She  nodded. 

"  More  than  once  ? " 

"  For  days  together." 

Pats  closed  his  eyes  in  pain,  and  there  was 
a  silence.  Then  he  opened  them :  "  Would 
you  mind  telling  me  some  of  the  things  I 
said?" 

"  I  could  not  remember." 

"  Have  you  forgotten  all?  " 

"  No  —  but  I  prefer  not  repeating  them." 

On  Pats's  face  the  look  of  shame  deepened. 
In  a  very  low  voice  he  said :   "  Please  remember 
that  I  was  not  myself." 
9  129 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  I  make  allowance  for  that." 

"  Excuse  my  asking,  but  if  I  was  out  of  my 
head  and  irresponsible,  what  could  I  have  said 
to  make  you  believe  that  I  was  —  in  love  with 
you  ? " 

"You  protested  so  violently  that  you  were 
not." 

With  unspeakable  horror  and  humiliation 
Pats  began  to  realize  the  awful  possibilities  of 
that  divulgence  of  his  most  secret  thoughts.  A 
cold  chill  crept  up  his  spine.  He  looked  down 
at  the  floor,  from  fear  that  she  might  glance  in 
his  direction  and  meet  his  eyes.  Solomon,  who 
felt  there  was  trouble  in  the  air,  came  nearer 
and  placed  his  cold  wet  snout  against  the 
clinched  hands  of  his  master ;  but  the  hands 
were  unresponsive. 

At  last,  the  stricken  man  mustered  courage 
enough  to  stammer  in  a  constrained  voice : 

"  It  is  not  from  curiosity  I  ask  it,  but  would 
you  mind  telling  me  —  giving  me  at  least  some 
idea  of  what  I  said  ?  " 

Elinor  carefully  deposited  a  neatly  folded 
handkerchief  upon  a  little  pile  of  other  hand 
kerchiefs.  Then,  looking  down  at  the  table  and 
not  at  Pats,  she  said  calmly,  as  she  continued 
her  work : 


130 


A  Sinner's  Recompense 

"  You  said  I  was  a  pious  hypocrite  —  cold 
blooded  and  heartless  —  and  a  fool.  You  re 
peated  a  great  many  times  that  I  was  superior, 
pretentious,  and  '  everlastingly  stuck  on  myself/ 
—  I  think  that  was  the  expression.  Of  course, 
I  cannot  repeat  your  own  words.  They  were 
forcible,  but  exceedingly  profane." 

"Oh!" 

"  You  kept  mentioning  three  other  men  who 
could  have  me  for  all  you  cared." 

Pats  felt  himself  blushing.  He  frowned, 
grew  hot,  and  bit  his  lip.  Mingled  with  his 
mortification  came  an  impotent  rage.  He  felt 
that  behind  her  contempt  she  was  laughing  at 
him.  As  there  was  a  pause,  he  muttered 
bitterly : 

"  Go  on." 

But  she  continued  silently  with  her  ironing. 

"  Please  go  on.  Tell  me  more  ;  the  worst. 
I  should  like  to  know  it." 

Raising  one  of  the  handkerchiefs  higher  for 
a  closer  examination,  she  added:  "You  sang 
comic  songs,  inserting  my  name,  and  with 
language  I  supposed  no  gentlemen  could 
use." 

Pats  gasped.  His  cheeks  tingled.  In  shame 
he  closed  his  eyes.  The  ticking  of  the  old 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

clock  behind  the  door  seemed  to  hammer  his 
degradation  still  deeper  into  his  aching  soul. 
As  his  wandering,  miserable  gaze  encountered 
the  marble  face  of  the  Marshal  of  France  he 
thought  the  old  soldier  was  watching  him  in 
contemptuous  enjoyment. 
•  But  Elinor  went  on  quietly  with  her  ironing. 

Suddenly  into  his  feverish  brain  there  came  a 
thought,  heaven-born,  inspiring.  It  lifted  him 
to'  his  feet.  With  a  firm  stride  he  approached 
the  table.  No  legs  could  have  done  it  better. 
He  stood  beside  her,  but  she  turned  her  back 
as  she  went  on  with  the  ironing.  His  expres 
sion  was  of  a  man  exalted,  yet  anxious ;  and  he 
spoke  in  a  low  but  unruly  voice. 

"You  say  you  have  known  I  was  in  love 
with  you  ever  since  the  fever?" 

She  nodded  slightly,  without  looking  up. 

"  And  yet  you  have  been  very  —  kind,  and 
not  —  not  annoyed  or  offended.  Perhaps  after 
all,  you  —  you  —  oh,  please  turn  around  !  " 

But  she  did  not  turn,  so  he  stepped  around 
in  front.  Into  her  cheeks  had  come  a  sudden 
color,  and  in  her  eyes  he  saw  the  light  that  lifts 
a  lover  to  the  highest  heaven. 

It  was  Pat's  cry  of  joy  and  his  impulsive 
and  somewhat  violent  embrace  of  this  lady 

132 


A  Sinner's  Recompense 

that  awakened  the  dog  reposing  by  the  door. 
Looking  in  the  direction  of  the  voice  Solomon 
seemed  to  see  but  a  single  figure.  This  was 
a  natural  mistake.  In  another  moment,  how 
ever,  he  realized  that  extraordinary  things  were 
happening,  —  that  these  two  distinct  and  sepa 
rate  beings  with  a  single  outline  signified  some 
momentous  change  in  human  life.  Whether 
from  an  overmastering  sympathy,  from  envy, 
delicacy,  or  disgust,  Solomon  looked  the  other 
way.  Then,  thoughtfully,  with  drooping  head, 
he  walked  slowly  out  and  left  the  lovers  to 
themselves. 


133 


TRAPPING   A    QUAIL 

HAPPY   were    the   days   that    followed. 
Pats,  uplifted  with  his  own  joy,  be 
came  a  lavish  dispenser  of  cheerfulness 
and  folly.     Elinor,  with  unclouded  eyes  and  a 
warmer  color  in  her    cheeks,  seemed    to    have 
drifted  into  the  Harbor  of  Serenity.     Both  were 
at  peace  with  creation. 

In  pleasant  weather  they  strolled  among  the 
pines,  worked  in  the  little  garden  behind  the 
house,  fished,  played  upon  the  beach ,  or  explored 
the  neighborhood.  When  it  rained,  which  was 
seldom,  they  cleaned  up  the  house,  read 
books  and  old  letters,  ransacking  trunks  and 
drawers  trying  to  discover  the  secret  of  the  de 
parted  owner.  But  in  vain.  The  departed  owner 
had  been  careful  to  leave  no  clew  to  his  identity 

134 


Trapping  a  Quail 

or  of  his  reason  for  abiding  there.  They  did 
find,  however,  between  the  leaves  of  a  book,  a 
little  chart  of  the  point  done  by  his  own  hand 
apparently,  and  beneath  it  was  written 

La  Pointe  de  Lory. 

So  they  felt  they  had  learned  the  name  of  the 
place,  but  whether  it  was  the  official  name  or  one 
given  by  the  old  gentleman  for  his  private  use 
they  could  not  discover. 

"  There  is  a  town  of  St.  Lory  in  the  south  of 
France,"  said  Pats.  "  I  knew  a  man  who  came 
from  there.  Perhaps  our  host  was  from  that 
vicinity." 

The  days  went  by  and  no  sail  appeared.  This, 
however,  was  of  slight  importance.  In  fact,  dur 
ing  that  first  ecstatic  period,  nothing  was  import 
ant,  —  that  is,  nothing  like  a  ship.  It  was  during 
this  period  they  forgot  to  keep  tally  of  time,  and 
they  either  lost  or  gained  a  day,  they  knew  not 
which  —  nor  cared. 

All  days  were  good,  whatever  the  weather. 
Time  never  dragged.  With  a  companion  of 
another  temperament  Elinor  could  easily  have 
passed  moments  of  depression.  For  a  girl  in 
her  position  there  certainly  was  abundant  mate 
rial  for  regret.  But  the  courage  and  the  un- 

135 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

wavering  cheerfulness  of  Pats  were  contagious. 
He  and  melancholy  were  never  partners.  A  dis 
covery,  however,  was  made  one  morning  on  the 
little  beach  that,  for  a  moment  at  least,  rilled 
Elinor  with  misgivings. 

Midway  along  this  beach  they  found  a  bucket, 
rolling  about  on  the  sand,  driven  here  and  there 
by  the  incoming  waves. 

"That  is  worth  saving,"  and  Pats,  watch 
ing  his  opportunity,  followed  up  a  receding 
breaker  and  procured  the  prize.  It  resem 
bled  a  fire-bucket ;  and  there  were  white  letters 
around  the  centre.  Elinor  ran  up  and  stood 
beside  him,  and,  as  he  held  it  aloft,  turning  it 
slowly  about  to  follow  the  words,  both  read 
aloud : 

«  Of—  the  —  North  —  Maid." 

"  Maid  of  the  North  ! "  exclaimed  Elinor, 
grasping  Pats  by  the  arm.  "  Oh,  I  hope  noth 
ing  has  happened  to  her  !  " 

"  Probably  not.  More  likely  some  sailor  lost 
it  overboard."  Then,  looking  up  and  down  the 
beach,  "  There  is  no  wreckage  of  any  kind.  If 
she  had  blown  up  or  struck  a  rock  there  would 
surely  be  something  more  than  one  water-bucket 
to  come  ashore  and  tell  us.  I  guess  she  is  all 
right." 

136 


Trapping  a  Quail 

"  But  how  exciting  !  It  seems  like  meeting  an 
old  friend." 

She  held  it  in  her  own  hands.  "  Poor  thing  ! 
You  did  look  so  melancholy  swashing  about  on 
this  lonely  beach." 

When  they  returned  to  the  house  they  carried 
the  bucket  with  them. 

Pats  had  his  own  misgivings,  however.  One 
or  two  other  objects  he  had  discerned  floating  on 
the  water  farther  out,  too  far  away  to  distinguish 
what  they  were.  And  the  fact  that  no  search  had 
been  made  for  Elinor  was  in  itself  disquieting. 
But  as  his  chief  aim  at  present  was  to  bring  con 
tentment  to  the  girl  beside  him,  he  carefully 
refrained  from  any  betrayal  of  these  doubts. 
Nothing  else,  however,  that  might  cause  alarm 
was  washed  ashore. 

And  Pats,  all  this  time,  was  growing  fat. 
His  increasing  plumpness  was  perceptible  from 
day  to  day,  and  it  proved  a  constant  source  of 
mirth  to  his  companion.  One  morning  he  ap 
peared  in  a  pair  of  checkered  trousers  purchased 
in  South  Africa  during  his  skeleton  period. 
They  seemed  on  the  verge  of  exploding  from 
the  outward  pressure  of  the  legs  within.  Elinor 
made  no  effort  to  suppress  her  merriment.  She 
called  him  "  Fatsy."  And  to  the  dog,  who 

137 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

regarded  the  trousers  with  his  usual  solemnity, 
she  remarked : 

"  O,  Solomon  ! 

See  him  grow  fat ! 
Our  erstwhile  skinny, 
Diaphanous  Pat." 

But  with  "  Fatsy's  "  flesh  came  increase  of 
strength,  and  he  proved  a  hard  worker.  As 
soon  as  he  was  strong  enough  he  began  to  build 
the  raft  by  which  they  hoped  to  cross  the  river. 
But  progress  was  slow  for  his  endurance  had 
limits,  and  he  could  work  but  an  hour  or  two 
each  day.  Their  plan  was  to  paddle  across  the 
river  on  this  raft  as  they  floated  down.  Owing 
to  the  swiftness  of  the  current  they  built  the 
raft  nearly  a  mile  farther  up  the  stream.  With 
the  walk  to  and  fro,  which  also  taxed  the 
builder's  strength,  the  month  of  July  brought 
little  progress.  One  afternoon,  they  sauntered 
home,  the  broad,  swift,  silent  river  on  their 
right,  the  sun  just  above  the  trees  on  the  oppo 
site  bank.  Close  at  hand,  on  their  own  side 
of  the  river  the  nearest  pines  stood  forth  in 
strong  relief  against  the  mysterious  depths  be 
hind.  Near  the  river's  bank  long  shadows 
from  these  towering  trunks  lay  in  purple  bars 
across  the  smooth,  brown  carpet.  It  was  about 

138 


Trapping  a  Quail 

half-way  home  that  the  man,  with  an  air  of 
weariness,  seated  himself  upon  a  fallen  tree. 
Elinor  regarded  him  with  an  anxious  face. 

"  Patsy,  you  have  done  too  much  again." 
As  he  looked  up,  she  saw  in  his  eyes  an  ex 
pression  she  had  learned  to  associate  with  levity 
and  foolishness.  "  Be  serious.  You  are  very 
tired,  now  are  n't  you  ?  " 

"Just  pleasantly  tired.  But  if  I  were  sud 
denly  kissed  by  a  popular  belle  it  would  give 
me  new  strength." 

When,  a  moment  later,  he  arose,  fresh  life 
and  vigor  seemed  certainly  to  have  been  ac 
quired.  Catching  her  by  the  waist,  he  hummed 
a  waltz  and  away  they  floated,  over  the  pine- 
needles,  he  in  gray  and  she  in  white,  like 
wingless  spirits  of  the  wood.  When  the 
waltz  had  ended  and  they  were  walking  hand 
in  hand,  and  a  little  out  of  breath,  the  lady 
remarked : 

"  When  I  am  frivolous  in  these  woods  I  feel 
very  wicked.  They  are  so  silent  and  reserved 
themselves,  so  solemn  and  so  very  high-minded 
that  it  seems  a  desecration." 

"  All  wrong,"  said  Pats.  "  This  is  a  temple 
built  for  lovers :  shady,  spacious,  and  jammed 
full  of  mystery  —  and  safe." 

139 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  But  it 's  the  spaciousness  and  mystery  that 
make  it  so  like  a  temple  and  suggest  serious 
thoughts." 

"Not  to  a  healthy  mind.  Oh,  no!  This 
gloom  is  here  for  a  purpose.  Pious  thoughts 
should  seek  the  light,  but  lovers  need  obscurity. 
They  always  have  and  they  always  will." 

A  few  steps  farther  on  he  stopped  and  faced 
her,  still  holding  her  hand :  "  If  you  will  feed 
the  hens  to-night,  bring  in  the  wood  and  wash 
the  dishes,  you  may  embrace  me  once  again  — 
now,  right  here." 

She  snatched  away  her  head.  He  sprang 
forward  to  catch  her  —  but  she  was  away,  be 
yond  his  reach.  She  ran  on  ahead  and  Pats, 
after  a  short  pursuit,  gave  up  the  chase,  for  his 
fallible  legs  were  still  unfit  for  speed.  With  a 
mocking  laugh  and  a  wave  of  the  hand  she  hast 
ened  on  toward  the  cottage.  Following  more 
leisurely  he  watched  the  graceful  figure  in  the 
white  dress  hurrying  on  before  him  until  it  was 
lost  among  the  pines. 

Just  at  the  edge  of  the  woods,  not  a  hundred 
feet  from  the  house,  he  stopped.     Standing  be 
hind  a  tree  so  that  Elinor,  if  she  came  to  the 
door,  could  not  see  him,  he  whistled  three  notes.  ; 
These  notes,  clear  and  full,  were  in  imitation  of 

140 


Trapping  a  Quail 

a  quail.     And  he  did  it  exceedingly  well.     The 
imitation  was  masterly. 

But  no  one  appeared  at  the  cottage  door,  and 
after  a  short  silence  he  repeated  the  call. 

"  Perfect !  " 

Pats  started  and  turned  about. 

"  A  very  clever  hoax  !  " 

And  as  Elinor  stepped  forth  from  behind  a 
neighboring  tree,  there  was  a  look  in  her  eyes 
that  caused  the  skilful  deceiver  to  bow  his  head. 
With  a  slight  movement  of  the  hands,  the 
palms  turned  outward,  as  if  in  surrender,  he 
offered  a  mute  appeal  for  mercy. 

"So  you  are  that  quail ! "  And  slowly  up  and 
down  she  moved  her  head  as  if  realizing  with  re 
luctance  the  bitterness  of  the  discovery.  "  What 
fun  you  must  have  had  in  fooling  me  so  often 
and  so  easily !  And  the  many  times  that  I 
have  hurried  to  that  door  and  waited  to  hear  it 
again !  What  was  my  offence  that  you  should 
pay  me  back  in  such  a  fashion  ? " 

"  Oh,  don't  put  it  that  way  !  Don't  speak 
like  that!" 

"  And  my  sentiment  about  it !  My  saying 
that  I  loved  the  sound  because  it  took  me  back 
to  my  own  home  in  Massachusetts  —  all  that 
must  have  been  very  amusing." 

141 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  Listen.     Let  me  explain." 

"  And  to  keep  on  making  me  ridiculous,  day 
after  day,  when  I  was  on  the  verge  of  collapse 
from  pure  exhaustion  —  yes,  it  showed  a  nice 
feeling." 

"  Elinor,  you  are  very  unjust.  Let  me  tell 
you  just  how  it  happened.  The  first  morning 
that  I  could  walk  as  far  as  this,  you  left  me  here 
at  this  very  spot,  and  you  went  back  to  the 
house.  I  was  told  to  whistle  if  I  wanted  any 
thing.  You  remember  ? " 

Almost  perceptibly  and  with  contempt  she 
nodded. 

"  Well,  when  I  did  whistle,  I  whistled  in  that 
way  —  like  a  quail.  You  thought  it  was  a  real 
quail  and  you  did  n't  come  out.  When  finally 
you  helped  me  back  you  spoke  of  hearing  a 
quail,  and  of  how  much  pleasure  it  gave  you. 
You  hoped  he  would  not  go  away."  And  he 
smiled  humbly,  as  he  added :  "  And  you  made 
me  promise  not  to  shoot  him." 

She  merely  turned  her  eyes  away,  over  the 
river,  toward  the  sunset. 

"  And  I  thought  then  that  if  it  gave  you  so 
much  pleasure,  why  not  keep  on  with  it  ?  The 
Lord  knows  the  favors  a  helpless  invalid  can 
bestow  are  few  enough  !  And  the  Lord  also 

142 


Trapping  a  Quail 

knows  that  I  have  no  accomplishments.  I  can 
not  sing,  or  play,  or  recite  poetry.  At  that 
time  I  could  not  even  start  a  fire  or  bring  in 
water.  In  fact,  my  sole  accomplishment  was  to 
imitate  a  bird.  'Tis  a  humble  gift,  but  I  re 
solved  to  make  the  most  of  it." 

She  stood  facing  him,  about  a  dozen  feet 
away,  a  striking  figure,  with  the  light  from  the 
setting  sun  on  her  white  dress,  the  dark  recesses 
of  the  wood  for  a  background.  Into  her  face 
came  no  signs  of  relenting.  But  he  detected 
in  her  eyebrows  a  slight  movement  as  if  to 
maintain  a  frown,  and  he  ventured  nearer, 
slowly,  as  a  dog  just  punished  manoeuvres  for 
forgiveness.  Removing  his  straw  hat  he  knelt 
before  her,  his  eyes  upon  the  ground. 

"  I  confess  to  a  guilty  feeling  every  time  I 
did  it.  I  knew  a  day  of  reckoning  would  come. 
But  I  was  postponing  it.  I  am  ashamed,  really 
ashamed ;  but  on  my  honor  my  motive  was 
good.  Please  be  merciful." 

"  Are  you  serious  ?  —  or  trying  to  be  funny, 
and  not  really  caring  much  about  it?" 

"  I  am  serious  ;  very  serious." 

"  Do  you  realize  what  a  contemptible  trick  it 
was  —  how  mean-spirited  and  ungrateful  ?  " 

Lower  still  sank  his  head.     "  I  do." 
143 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"And  you  promise  never  to  deceive  me 
again  ? " 

"  I  swear  it." 

"  You  value  my  good  opinion,  I  suppose." 

"  I  would  rather  die  than  lose  it !  " 

"Well,  you  have  lost  it,  and  forever." 

From  the  bowed  head  came  a  groan.  At  this 
point  Solomon  approached  the  kneeling  figure 
and  placed  his  nose  inquiringly  against  the 
criminal's  ear.  And  the  criminal  involuntarily 
shrank  from  the  cold  contact.  At  this  the  lady 
smiled,  but  unobserved  by  the  kneeling  man. 

"  Are  you  sincerely  and  thoroughly  ashamed? " 

"Yumps." 

"What?" 

"Yes,  oh,  yes!" 

"  I  don't  like  your  manner." 

"Please  like  it.  I  am  honest  now.  I  shall 
always  be  good." 

"You  could  n't     It  is  n't  in  you." 

"  There  is  going  to  be  a  mighty  effort." 

"Get  up!" 

He  obeyed.  As  their  eyes  met,  he  smiled, 
but  with  a  frown  she  pointed  toward  the  cottage. 
"  Turn  around  and  walk  humbly  with  your  head 
down.  You  are  not  to  speak  until  spoken  to. 
And  you  are  to  be  in  disgrace  for  three  days." 

144 


Trapping  a  Quail 

"  Oh  !     Three  days  ?  " 

"  Go  ahead." 

And  again  he  obeyed. 

Elinor  was  firm.  For  three  days  the  disgrace 
endured.  But  it  was  not  of  a  nature  to  demol 
ish  hope  or  even  to  retard  digestion.  And 
Solomon,  who  was  a  keen  observer,  displayed  no 
unusual  sympathy,  and  evidently  failed  to 
realize  that  his  master  was  in  any  serious 
trouble. 

On  pleasant  evenings  Pats  and  Elinor  often 
went  to  the  beach  below  and  sat  upon  the  rocks, 
always  attended  by  Solomon,  the  only  chaperon 
at  hand.  Here  they  were  nearer  the  water. 
And  one  evening  they  found  much  happiness  in 
watching  a  big,  round  moon  as  it  rose  from  the 
surface  of  the  Gulf.  The  silence,  the  shimmer 
of  the  moonlight  on  the  waters  —  all  tended  to 
draw  lovers  closer  together.  Already  the 
heads  of  these  two  people  were  so  near  that  the 
faintest  tone  sufficed.  And  they  murmured 
many  things  —  things  strictly  between  them 
selves,  that  would  appear  of  an  appalling  foolish 
ness  if  repeated  here  —  or  anywhere.  They 
also  talked  on  serious  subjects  ;  subjects  so  tran- 
scendentally  serious  as  to  be  of  interest  only  by 
night.  Like  all  other  lovers  they  exchanged 
10  145 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

confidences.  Once,  when  Pats  was  speaking  of 
his  family  she  suddenly  withdrew  her  hand. 
"  By  the  way,  there  is  something  to  be  ex 
plained.  Tell  me  about  that  interview  with 
your  father." 

"  Which  interview  ?  " 

"  The  disgraceful,  murderous  one." 

Pats  reflected.     "  There  were  several." 

"  Oh,  Patsy  !     Are  you  so  bad  as  that  ?  " 

"As  what?" 

"  But  you  did  not  mean  to  do  him  injury, 
did  you  ?  " 

"  /  do  him  injury  ?  "  he  inquired,  in  a  mild 
surprise.  "  Why,  what  are  you  driving  at, 
Elinor  ? " 

"  I  mean  the  quarrel  in  the  arbor." 

"  And  what  happened  ?  " 

"  You  know  very  well." 

"  Indeed  I  do !  But  there  were  several  quar 
rels.  Which  one  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  the  one  when  you  were  violent  — 
and  murderous." 

"  But  I  was  n't." 

"  Yes,  you  were.     I  know  all  about  it." 

"  If  you  know  all  about  it,  what  do  you  want 
me  to  tell  *  " 

"  Tell  about  the  worst  quarrel  of  all." 
146 


Trapping  a  Quail 

"  That  must  have  been  the  last  one." 

"  Well,  tell  me  about  that." 

Pats  took  a  long  breath,  then  began :  "  The 
old  gentleman  was  a  hot  Catholic.  There  was 
no  harm  in  that,  you  will  think.  And  I  am  not 
such  a  fool  as  to  spoil  a  night  like  this  by  a 
religious  discussion." 

"  Go  on." 

"  Well,  he  insisted  upon  my  becoming  a 
Catholic  priest.  Now,  for  a  young  man  just 
out  of  college  —  and  Harvard  College  at  that 
—  it  was  a  good  deal  to  ask.  Was  n't  it?" 

"  Continue." 

"  One  day  in  that  summer-house  he  sailed 
away  into  one  of  his  .tempers  —  did  you  ever 
happen  to  see  him  in  that  condition  ? " 

"  No,  but  I  have  heard  of  them." 

"  Well,  my  mother  was  a  Unitarian.  So  was 
I.  And  the  gulf  between  a  Unitarian  and  a 
Catholic  priest  is  about  as  wide  as  from  here  to 
that  moon.  It  was  like  asking  me  to  become  a 
beautiful  young  lady  —  or  a  green  elephant  — 
I  simply  could  n't.  Perhaps  you  agree  with 
me?" 

"  Go  on.     Don't  ask  so  many  questions." 

"  I  told  him,  respectfully,  it  was  impossible. 
Then  as  he  made  a  rush  for  me  I  saw,  from  his 

147 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

eyes  and  his  white  face,  that  murder  and  sudden 
death  were  in  the  air.  Being  younger  I  could 
dodge  him  and  get  away,  and  that  so  increased 
his  fury  that  he  fell  down  on  the  gravel  walk  in 
a  sort  of  convulsion  —  or  fit.  I  ran  into  the 
house  for  assistance,  and  while  Sally  and  Martha 
tried  to  bring  him  to  I  went  for  the  doctor." 

A  silence  followed  this  story.  At  last  Elinor 
inquired  if  his  father  persisted. 

"  Persisted  !  That  question,  oh,  Angel  Cook, 
shows  how  little  you  knew  my  father !  As 
soon  as  he  recovered  he  lost  no  time  in  telling 
me  to  leave  the  house  and  never  see  him  again." 

"  And  what  happened  ?  " 

"  I  vanished." 

"  Oh  ! "  A  sympathetic  pressure  of  his  hand 
and  the  girl  beside  him  leaned  closer  still. 
"  Horrible !  So  you  wandered  out  into  the 
world  and  this  is  your  home-coming.  Well, 
Patsy,  I  shall  never  treat  you  in  that  way. 
When  you  are  very  obstinate  I  shall  just  put 
my  arms  around  your  neck  and  treat  you  very 
differently." 

"Well,"  said  Pats,  "  I  think  it  safer  for  you 
to  be  doing  that  most  of  the  time,  anyway.  It 
might  stave  off  any  inclination  to  obstinacy." 

Here  followed  a  snug,  celestial  silence,  broken 
148 


Trapping  a  Quail 

at  last  by  Pats.  "  Would  you  mind  telling  me, 
O  Light  of  the  North,  where  you  heard  I  was 
the  attacking  party  at  that  interview  ? " 

"  No,  I  must  not  tell." 

"  Did  Father  Burke  make  you  promise  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  mention  him  ?  " 

"  For  lots  of  reasons.  One  is  that  he  is  the 
only  person  on  earth  who  could  possibly  have 
told  you.  But  it  was  clever  of  him  to  warn  you 
against  me.  I  knew  from  his  expression  when 
he  said  good-by,  on  the  boat,  that  he  thought 
he  had  settled  my  prospects,  and  to  his  perfect 
satisfaction.  However,  I  don't  ask  you  to  be 
tray  him.  And  I  bear  no  malice.  He  did  his 
best  to  undo  me,  but  Love  and  all  the  angels 
were  on  my  side." 

She  laughed  gently.  "And  you  all  made  a 
strong  combination,  Patsy." 

Then  another  long  silence,  and  soon  he  felt 
the  lady  leaning  more  heavily  against  him. 
The  head  drooped  and  he  knew  she  slumbered. 
Having  no  wish  to  disturb  her,  he  sat  for  a  while 
without  moving,  and  watched  the  moon  and 
thought  delectable  thoughts  of  the  creature  by 
his  side.  And  as  his  thoughts,  involuntarily, 
and  in  an  amiable  spirit,  travelled  back  to  Father 
Burke,  he  smiled  as  he  pictured  quite  a  different 

149 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

expression  on  the  face  of  the  priest  when  he 
should  learn  what  had  happened.  And  the 
smile  seemed  reflected  in  the  radiant  counte 
nance  of  the  big,  round  moon  mounting  slowly 
in  the  heavens.  She  appeared  to  beam  approval 
upon  him  and  upon  the  precious  burden  he 
supported.  But  with  the  drowsiness  which 
soon  came  stealing  over  him  he  saw  —  or 
dreamed  he  saw  —  out  in  the  glistening  path  of 
light  between  the  moon  and  him,  not  far  from 
where  he  sat,  an  object  like  a  human  face,  up 
turned,  moving  gently  with  the  waves.  And 
mingling  among  the  quivering  moonbeams 
around  the  head  was  a  silvery  halo  that  might 
be  the  hair  of  Father  Burke ;  for  the  face  re 
sembled  his. 

Pats  was  startled  and  became  wide  awake. 
Even  then,  he  thought  he  had  a  glimpse  of  the 
face  with  its  silver  hair,  as  it  drifted  out  of  the 
bar  of  light  into  the  darkness,  slowly,  toward 
the  sea. 


150 


XI 
FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT 

THERE  came,  with  August,  a  percepti 
ble  shortening  of  the  days.     Cooler 
nights   gave  warning    that   the    brief 
Canadian  summer  was  nearing  its  end. 

Pats  labored  on  the  raft,  but  the  work  was 
long.  A  float  that  would  bear  in  safety  two 
people  down  the  river's  current  —  and  possibly 
out  to  sea — demanded  size  and  strength  and 
weight.  Felling  trees,  trimming  logs,  and  steer 
ing  them  down  the  river  to  the  "  ship-yard," 
proved  a  slower  undertaking  than  had  been  fore 
seen.  But  nobody  complained.  The  air  they 
breathed  and  the  life  they  led  were  in  them 
selves  annihilators  of  despair.  It  was  an  exhil 
arating,  out-of-door  life,  —  a  life  of  love  and  labor 
and  of  ecstatic  repose. 

Both  Elinor  and  Pats  were  up  with  the  sun, 
and  the  days  were  never  too  long.  To  them  it 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

mattered  little  whether  the  evenings  were  long 
or  short  or  cold  or  warm,  for  by  the  time  the 
dishes  were  washed  and  the  chores  were  done, 
they  became  too  sleepy  to  be  of  interest  to  each 
other.  And  when  the  lady  retired  to  her  own 
chamber  behind  the  tapestries,  Pats,  at  his  end 
of  the  cottage,  always  whistled  gently  or  broke 
the  silence  in  one  way  or  another  as  a  guarantee 
of  distance,  that  she  might  feel  a  greater 
security. 

As  for  lovers'  quarrels  none  occurred  that 
were  seriously  respected  by  either  party.  In 
fact  there  was  but  little  to  break  the  monotony 
of  that  solid,  absolute  content  with  which  all 
days  began  and  ended. 

"  'T  is  love  that  makes  the  world  go  round." 

There  is  no  doubt  of  that,  but  two  lovers, 
with  unfailing  appetites,  however  exalted  their 
devotion,  are  sure,  in  time,  to  produce  conspicu 
ous  results  with  any  ordinary  store  of  provi 
sions.  In  the  present  instance  the  discovery  — 
or  realization  —  of  this  truth  was  accidental.  It 
came  one  morning  as  Elinor,  in  a  blue  and 
white  apron,  with  sleeves  rolled  up,  was  prepar 
ing  corn-bread  at  the  kitchen  table  —  so  they 
called  the  table  near  the  fireplace  at  the  end  of 

152 


Food  for  Thought 

the  room.  Pats  came  up  from  the  cellar  with  a 
face  of  unusual  seriousness. 

"  I  have  been  an  awful  fool !  " 

She  looked  up  with  her  sweetest  smile  : 

"  And  that  troubles  you,  darling  ?  " 

Without  replying,  he  laid  three  potatoes  on 
the  table. 

"  I  told  you  to  get  four." 

"  These  are  the  last." 

"  Is  n't  there  a  second  barrel  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Why,  Patsy  !     We  both  saw  it ! " 

"That's  where  I  was  a  fool.  I  took  it  for 
granted  the  other  barrel  held  potatoes  because 
it  looked  like  the  first  one." 

"  But  it  was  full  of  something." 

"  Yes,  but  not  potatoes.  It  is  crockery,  glass 
ware,  a  magnificent  table-set.  Old  Sevres,  I 
should  say." 

"  What  a  shame ! "  And  with  the  back 
of  a  hand  whose  fingers  were  covered  with 
corn-meal,  she  brushed  a  stray  lock  from  her 
face. 

"  Yes,"  he  went  on,  "  it 's  a  calamity,  for  we 
cannot  afford  it.  I  took  an  account  of  stock 
while  I  was  down  there,  and  all  we  have  now  in 
the  way  of  vegetables  is  the  dried  apples.  Of 

153 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

course,  there's   the  garden    truck,  —  the   peas, 
beans,  and  the  corn,  —  if  it  ever  ripens." 

After  further  conversation  on  that  subject, 
Elinor  said,  with  a  sigh : "  Well,  we  did  enjoy 
those  baked  potatoes  !  We  shall  have  to  eat 
more  eggs,  that's  all." 

"  Eggs  !  "  and  his  face  became  distorted.  "  I 
am  so  chock  full  of  eggs  now  that  everything 
looks  yellow.  I  dream  of  them.  I  cackle  in 
my  sleep.  My  whole  interior  is  egg.  I  breathe 
and  think  egg.  I  gag  when  I  hear  a  hen." 

"  But  you  are  going  to  eat  them  all  the  same. 
We  have  a  dozen  a  day,  and  you  must  do  your 
share." 

"  I  won't." 

"Yes,  you  will." 

As  Pats's  eyes  fell  on  Solomon,  he  brightened 
up.  "  There 's  that  dog  eats  only  the  very 
things  we  are  unable  to  spare.  Why  should  n't 
he  eat  eggs  ?  " 

"  You  might  try  and  teach  him." 

"Tell  me,"  said  Pats,  "why  hens  should 
lay  nothing  but  eggs,  always  eggs  ?  Why 
shouldn't  they  lay  pears,  lemons,  tomatoes, — 
things  we  really  need  ?  " 

In  silence  the  lady  continued  her  work. 

"Angel  Cook?"" 

154 


Food  for  Thought 

"Well?" 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  think,  considering  your  years,  that  your 
conversation  is  surprising.  Eggs  are  very  nour 
ishing,  and  we  are  lucky  to  have  them.  Did  n't 
I  make  you  a  nice  omelette  only  a  few  days 
ago?" 

"You  did,  and  I  never  knew  a  better  for 
its  purpose.  I  still  use  it  for  cleaning  the 
windows." 

"  Really  !  Well,  you  had  better  make  it  last, 
for  you  won't  get  another." 

"  Oh,  don't  be  angry  !  I  thought  you  meant 
it  as  a  keepsake." 

He  approached  with  repentant  air,  but  when 
threatened  with  her  doughy  hands,  he  retreated, 
and  sat  on  the  big  chest  by  the  window. 
This  chest  had  served  for  his  bed  since  his 
convalescence. 

Elinor  frowned,  and  pointed  to  the  fire. 
Pats  arose  and  laid  on  a  fresh  stick,  then  knelt 
upon  the  hearth  and,  with  a  seventeenth-century 
bellows,  inlaid  with  silver,  that  would  have 
graced  the  drawing-room  of  a  palace,  he  coaxed 
the  fire  into  a  more  active  life. 

"  Now  go  out  and  bring  in  some  wood. 
More  small  sticks.  Not  the  big  ones." 

155 


XII 
THE  WOLF   AT  THE    DOOR 

DURING  dinner,  which  occurred  at 
noon,  there  were  fewer  words  that 
day,  and  with  somewhat  more  reflec 
tion  than  was  usual.  The  store  of  provisions 
now  rapidly  disappearing,  together  with  no  pros 
pect  of  immediate  escape,  furnished  rich  material 
for  thought.  Both  knew  the  raft  might  prove 
a  treacherous  reliance.  Instead  of  landing  them 
on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river  there  were 
excellent  chances  of  its  carrying  them  out  to  sea. 
And  the  prevailing  westerly  wind  was  almost 
sure  to  drive  them  backward  to  the  east  again. 
Pats  had  been  all  over  this  so  many  times  in 
his  own  mind,  and  with  Elinor,  that  the  subject 
was  pretty  well  exhausted.  But  still,  from  habit, 
he  speculated. 

156 


The  Wolf  at  the  Door 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts." 

He  raised  his  eyes,  and  as  they  met  her 
own  his  habitual  cheerfulness  returned.  "  My 
thoughts  are  worth  more  than  that,  for  I  was 
thinking  of  you." 

"  Something  bad  ? " 

"  I  was  wondering  how  many  days  you  could 
foot  it  through  the  wilderness  before  giving 
out." 

"  For  ever,  little  Patsy,  if  you  were  with  me." 

"Then  we  have  nothing  to  fear.  We  can 
both  march  on  for  ever.  You  are  not  only 
food  and  drink  to  me,  —  that  is,  the  equivalent 
of  corncake,  potatoes,  marmalade,  and  claret, — 
but  your  presence  is  life  and  strength  and  a 
spiritual  tonic." 

"  That  is  a  good  sentiment,"  and  she  reached 
forth  a  hand,  which  he  took. 

"  Merely  to  look  at  you,"  he  continued, 
"  will  be  exhilarating  on  a  long  march.  And 
to  hear  your  voice,  and  touch  you  —  why,  my 
soul  becomes  drunk  in  thinking  of  it." 

"  Then  you  expect  to  be  in  a  state  of  intoxi 
cation  during  the  whole  journey  ? " 

"  That  is  my  hope." 

It  happened,  a  few  minutes  later,  that  she 
herself  became  preoccupied,  her  eyes  fixed 

157 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

thoughtfully   upon   the    little   portrait   on    the 
opposite  chair. 

"  A  dollar  for  your  thoughts." 

"  Why  so  much  ?  " 

"  Because  any  thought  of  yours,"  said  Pats, 
"is  worth  at  least  a  dollar." 

"  Thanks." 

"  You  are  thinking,  as  usual,  of  that  woman. 
The  woman  who  has  my  place." 

"  It  is  her  place ;  she  had  it  before  we  came." 

"  But  you  ought  to  be  looking  at  me  all  this 
time.  I  am  the  person  for  you  to  think  about. 
I  shall  end  by  hating  the  woman." 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  be  jealous.  You  can't 
hate  her.  Such  a  gentle  face !  And  then  all 
the  mystery  that  goes  with  her!  I  would  give 
anything  to  know  who  she  was." 

Pats  scowled :  "  You  would  give  Solomon 
and  me,  among  other  things." 

"  No,  never  !  "  And  again  she  extended  the 
hand,  but  he  frowned  upon  it  and  drew  back 
into  the  farther  corner  of  his  chair.  She 
laughed.  "And  is  Fatsy  really  jealous?" 

"  No,  not  jealous ;  but  hurt,  disgusted,  out 
raged,  and  upset." 

"  Because  I  insist  upon  treating  our  hostess 
with  respect  and  recognizing  her  rights  ?  " 

158 


The  Wolf  at  the  Door 

"  Our  hostess  !  More  likely  some  female 
devil  who  beguiled  the  old  man.  Probably  he 
was  so  ashamed  of  her  he  never  dared  go  home 
again." 

"  Oh,  Pats!     I  blush  for  you." 

"  It 's  a  silly  face." 

"  It  is  a  face  full  of  character." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Elinor !  It  would  pass  for 
a  portrait  of  the  full  moon." 

"  Well,  the  full  moon  has  character.  And  I 
love  those  big  merry  eyes  with  the  funny  little 
melancholy  kind  of  droop  at  the  outer  corners. 
Poor  thing !  She  must  have  had  a  sad  life  out 
here  in  the  wilderness." 

"  Thank  you." 

As  their  eyes  met  he  frowned  again,  and  she, 
for  the  third  time,  extended  the  hand.  "  A  sad 
life,  because  she  had  no  Pats." 

But  he  refused  the  hand.  "  That  is  very 
clever,  but  too  late.  The  stab  had  already 
reached  home." 

She  smiled  and  began  to  fold  her  napkin. 

"  To  return  to  business,  Miss  Marshall,  of 
Boston,  the  provisions  are  so  low  that  we  really 
must  decide  on  something." 

"  How  long  will  they  last  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  a  month  or  six  weeks.  Could  you 
159 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

pull  through  the  winter  on  eggs  and  dried  apples 
—  and  candles? " 

"  If  necessary." 

He  laughed.  "  I  believe  you  could !  You 
are  an  angel,  a  Spartan,  and  a  sport.  Your 
nature  is  simply  an  extravagant  profusion  of 
the  highest  human  attributes.  And  the  worst 
of  it  is,  you  look  it.  You  are  too  beautiful  — 
in  a  superior,  overtopping  way.  You  scare  me." 

She  pushed  back  her  chair.  "  You  have  said 
all  that  before." 

"  You  remember  the  frog  who  was  in  love 
with  the  moon? " 

She  regarded  him  from  the  corners  of  her 
eyes,  but  made  no  reply. 

"  He  used  to  sit  in  his  puddle  and  adore  her. 
One  pleasant  evening  she  came  down  out  of  the 
sky  and  kissed  him." 

"That  was  very  good  of  her.  And  then 
what  happened  ? " 

«  It  killed  him." 

Elinor  pushed  back  her  chair,  arose  from  the 
table  and  stood  beside  him.  "  Do  you  think  it 
was  a  happy  death  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  was  !     Lucky  devil ! " 

"Well,  close  your  eyes  and  dream  that  I  am 
the  moon  looking  down  at  you." 

160 


The  Wolf  at  the  Door 

With  face  upturned,  just  enough  to  make  it 
easier  for  the  moon,  Pats  closed  his  eyes.  In  se 
rene  anticipation  he  awaited  the  delectable  con 
tact  that  never  failed  to  send  a  thrill  of  pleasure 
through  all  his  being.  But  the  tranquil,  beatific 
smile  changed  swiftly  to  a  very  different  expres 
sion  as  he  felt  against  his  lips  —  a  slice  of  dried 
apple.  And  the  cold  moon  stepped  back  be 
yond  his  reach,  and  laughed. 

When  the  table  had  been  cleared  and  the  dishes 
washed  Pats,  Elinor,  and  Solomon  went  out  be 
hind  the  house  and  stood  near  the  edge  of  the 
cliff.  Eastward,  across  the  bay,  Pats  pointed  to 
a  distant  headland  running  out  into  the  Gulf, 
the  highest  land  in  sight. 

"As  near  as  I  can  guess  that  hill  is  about 
twenty  miles  away.  If  there  is  nothing  between 
to  hinder  I  can  walk  it  in  a  day.  Now,  from  that 
highest  point  I  can  probably  get  a  view  for  many 
miles.  Who  knows  what  lies  beyond  ?  There 
may  be  a  settlement  very  near.  In  that  case  we 
are  saved." 

"  And  suppose  there  is  none  ?" 

<{  Then  I  return,  and  we  are  no  worse  off  than 
we  were  before." 

Elinor  stood  beside  him,  regarding  the  distant 
ii  161 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

promontory  with  thoughtful  eyes.  He  put  his 
arm  around  her  waist.  "  You  see  the  sense  of 
it,  don't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.  How  long  would  you 
be  gone  ?" 

"  Not  over  three  days." 

"That  is,  three  days  and  two  nights." 

"Yes." 

"  And  if  the  ground  is  very  rough,  and  there 
are  swamps,  and  divers  things,  it  might  be  longer 
still." 

«  Hardly  likely." 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  while  you  are  gone  ? " 

"  Oh,  just  wait." 

She  moved  away  and  stood  facing  him. 

"  Yes,  that  is  like  a  man.  Just  wait !  Just 
wait  and  worry.  Just  watch  by  day  and  lie  awake 
at  night.  Just  be  sick  with  anxiety  for  four  or 
five  days.  You  would  find  me  dead  when  you 
returned.  Why  should  not  I  go  with  you  ?  " 

He  seemed  surprised.  Into  the  ever-cheerful 
face  came  a  look  of  anxiety.  "  I  am  afraid  it 
would  be  a  hard  tramp  for  you,  Angel  Cook. 
And  there  would  be  twice  as  much  luggage  to 
carry,  and  we  should  be  a  longer  time  away." 

"  I  will  carry  my  own  luggage." 

"Never!" 

162 


The  Wolf  at  the  Door 

<f  But  I  shall  go  with  you." 

"  Is  that  a  final  decision  ?  " 

She  nodded,  an  emphatic,  half-fierce  little  nod, 
and  frowned. 

Pats  smiled.  "  Miss  Elinor  Marshall,  I  am, 
as  I  have  before  remarked,  your  humble  and 
adoring  slave.  Your  will  is  law.  When  shall 
we  start?" 

"  Whenever  you  say." 

"  To-morrow?" 

She  nodded,  this  time  with  a  smile. 

"Early?" 

"  As  early  as  you  please." 

"  Then  at  crack  o'  dawn  we  go." 

And  the  next  morning,  at  crack  o'  dawn,  they 
started  off,  Pats  with  a  knapsack  so  voluminous 
that  he  resembled  a  pedler. 

Elinor  thought  it  too  much  for  him  to  carry. 
"  You  can  never  walk  all  day  with  that  on  your 
back.  Pedestrians  that  I  have  seen  never  carry 
such  loads." 

"  Then  you  have  never  seen  pedestrians  who 
carry  their  food  and  lodgings  with  them.  And 
you  forget  that  we  are  not  in  the  zone  of 
large  hotels." 

"  I  feel  very  guilty.  If  I  were  not  along  you 
would  have  less  to  carry." 

163 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  Have  no  fears,  Light  of  the  North.  If  one 
of  us  three  falls  by  the  wayside  it  will  be  neither 
Solomon  nor  myself." 

This  knapsack  consisted  of  three  blankets,  — 
two  of  flannel,  one  of  rubber,  —  some  claret 
bottles  filled  with  water,  and  food  for  five  days. 
There  was  also  coffee  and  a  little  brandy. 

As  they  started  off,  along  their  own  little 
beach,  the  sun  was  just  appearing  over  the 
strip  of  land  ahead.  Solomon,  in  high  spirits, 
galloped  madly  about  on  the  hard  sand,  with  an 
occasional  plunge  among  the  breakers.  But  Pats 
and  Elinor,  although  similarly  affected  by  the 
morning  air,  economized  their  steps,  for  a  long 
day's  tramp  was  before  them. 

At  the  eastern  end  of  the  beach,  before  enter 
ing  the  woods,  both  stopped  and  took  a  final 
look  toward  home.  A  rosy  light  was  on  sea 
and  land.  Beyond  the  beach,  with  its  tumb 
ling  waves  all  aglow  from  the  rising  sun, 
stood  the  Point  of  Lory,  and  their  eyes  lin 
gered  about  the  cottage.  Nestling  peacefully 
among  the  pines,  it  also  caught  the  morning 
light. 

"  Adieu,  little  house,"  said  Elinor.  And  then, 
turning  to  Pats,  "  Why,  I  am  really  sorry  to 
leave  it." 

164 


The  Wolf  at  the  Door 

"  So  am  I,  for  it  has  given  me  the  happiest 
days  of  my  life — or  of  anybody's  life." 

In  and  out  among  the  trees  they  tramped, 
three  hours  or  more,  with  intervals  for  rest, 
generally  through  the  woods,  but  always  keeping 
near  the  coast  unless  for  a  shorter  cut  across  the 
base  of  some  little  peninsula.  Elinor  stood  it 
well  and  enjoyed  with  Pats  the  excitement  of 
discovery.  After  a  long  nooning  they  pushed 
on  until  nearly  sunset.  When  they  halted  for  the 
night  both  explorers  were  still  in  good  condition ; 
but  the  next  morning,  in  starting  off,  each  con 
fessed  to  a  stiffness  in  the  lower  muscles.  This 
disappeared,  however,  after  an  hour's  walking. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  of  this  second  day's 
march  they  stood  upon  the  top  of  the  hill  which, 
from  a  distance,  had  promised  a  commanding 
view.  But  they  found,  as  so  often  happens  to 
every  kind  of  climber,  that  another  hill,  still 
higher  and  farther  on,  was  the  one  to  be  attained. 
So  they  pushed  ahead.  Just  before  reaching  the 
summit  of  this  final  hill  Pats  halted. 

"  Now  comes  a  critical  moment.  What  do  you 
think  we  shall  see  ? " 

Elinor  shook  her  head  sadly.  "  I  am  prepared 
for  the  worst;  for  the  wilderness,  without  a  sign 
of  human  life." 

165 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

Pats's  ever-cheerful  face  took  on  a  smile.  "  I 
suspect  you  are  right,  but  I  am  not  admitting  it 
officially.  I  prophesy  that  we  shall  look  down 
upon  a  large  and  very  fashionable  summer 
hotel." 

"  Awful  thought !  "  And  she  smiled  as  she  sur 
veyed  her  own  attire  and  that  of  Pats.    "  What  a 
sensation  we  should  create  !    You  with  that  faded 
old  flannel  shirt,  your  two  days'  beard,  and  those 
extraordinary  South  African  trousers  ;  and  I,  sun 
burnt  as  a  gypsy,  with  my  hair  half  down  —  " 
"  No  hair  like  it  in  the  world  —  " 
"  And  this  weather-beaten  dress.    What  would 
they  take  us  for  ? " 

"  For  what  we  are  —  tramps,  happy  tramps." 
Five  minutes  later  they  stood  upon  the  sum 
mit.  To  the  eastward,  as  far  as  sight  could  reach, 
lay  the  same  wild  coast.  For  several  miles  every 
detail  of  the  shore  stood  clearly  out  beneath  a 
cloudless  sky.  Of  man  or  his  habitation  they 
saw  no  sign.  To  the  vast  sweep  of  pines  —  like 
an  ocean  of  sombre  green  — there  was  no  visible 
limit  either  to  the  east  or  north.  And  southward, 
over  the  blue  expanse,  no  sail  or  craft  of  any 
kind  disturbed  the  surface  of  the  sea.  Here  and 
there  along  the  coast  shone  a  strip  of  yellow  beach 
with  its  fringe  of  glistening  foam.  Not  far  away 

166 


The  Wolf  at  the  Door 

an  opening  among  the  trees,  extending  inland 
for  several  miles,  showed  the  grasses  of  a  salt 
marsh. 

In  silence  Pats  and  Elinor  gazed  upon  this 
scene.  Beautiful  it  was,  grand,  indescribably 
impressive ;  but  it  brought  to  both  observers 
the  keenest  sense  of  their  isolation.  The  vast- 
ness  of  it,  and  the  stillness,  brought  a  vague 
despair,  and,  to  the  girl,  a  sort  of  terror.  Tears 
came  to  her  eyes. 

Pats  turned  and  saw  them.  His  own  face  had 
taken  on  a  sadder  look  than  was  often  allowed 
there,  but  his  eyes  met  hers  with  their  customary 
cheerfulness.  For  the  first  time  since  their  ac 
quaintance,  Elinor  wept  —  very  gently,  but  she 
wept.  All  that  a  sympathetic  and  unskilful  lover 
could  do  was  done  by  Pats.  He  patted  her  back, 
kissed  her  hair,  and  suggested  brandy.  Her 
collapse,  however,  was  of  short  duration.  She 
drew  back  and  smiled  and  apologized  for  her 
weakness. 

"  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  for  breaking  down. 
But  it's  the  first  time,  is  n't  it  ? " 

"Yes,  it  is;  and  I  have  wondered  at  your 
courage.  But  do  it  all  the  time  if  you  feel  the 
least  bit  better." 

She  smiled  and  shook  her  head.  "  No,  I  shall 
167 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

not  collapse  again.     I  shall  follow  your  example. 
You  are  always  in  good  spirits." 

"  I  ?  Well,  I  should  think  I  might  be  !  Here 
I  am  alone  in  the  wilderness  with  the  girl  that  all 
men  desire,  —  and  not  a  rival  in  sight!  Why,  I 
am  in  Heaven  !  I  had  never  dreamed  that  a  fel 
low  could  have  such  an  existence." 

When  they  descended  the  hill  and  started 
leisurely  on  the  homeward  march  two  smiling 
faces  were  illumined  by  the  western  sun. 


168 


XIII 

THE   HORN   OF   PLENTY 

HEAVY  showers  escorted  the  travellers 
during  the  last  afternoon  of  their  home 
ward  march.  Of  the  trio  Solomon 
was  the  wettest,  for  his  two  friends  were 
enfolded  in  a  rubber  blanket,  drawn  over  their 
heads  and  shoulders  and  held  together  in  front. 
Thus,  by  walking  arm  in  arm  and  keeping  close 
together,  they  escaped  a  soaking.  But  Elinor 
was  tired,  with  a  tendency  to  sadness.  This 
was  excusable,  as  the  failure  of  the  expedition 
left  the  choice  of  a  perilous  experiment  on  the 
raft  or  of  starvation  at  the  cottage.  Even  the 
saturated  Solomon,  as  he  preceded  them  with 
drooping  head,  seemed  to  have  lost  his 
buoyancy. 

169 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

But  Pats,  whatever  his  inward  state,  continued 
an  unfailing  well-spring  of  cheerfulness  and 
courage.  Not  a  disheartening  word  escaped 
him,  nor  a  sign  of  weakening.  And  his  efforts 
to  enliven  his  companion  were  persistent  — 
and  successful.  Being  of  a  hopeful  and  sel£ 
reliant  nature  this  task  was  not  so  very 
difficult. 

At  last,  toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
in  rain  and  mist,  they  came  to  the  eastern  end 
of  their  own  beach.  But  all  view  was  shut 
out.  Both  the  cottage  and  the  point  of  land  on 
which  it  stood  were  hidden  in  the  fog.  As  they 
tramped  along  this  beach,  on  the  hard  wet  sand, 
the  wind  and  rain  from  the  open  sea  came 
strong  against  their  faces. 

"It  will  be  good  to  get  back,"  said  Elinor. 

"  Yes,  but  I  like  this  better,"  and  Pats  drew 
the  rubber  blanket  a  little  closer  still.  "  Our 
life  at  the  cottage  is  too  confined  ;  too  cut  and 
dried,  too  conventional  and  ceremonious." 

"  Too  much  company  ?  " 

"  No,  just  enough.  But  too  much  routine 
and  sameness.  Above  all,  it  is  too  laborious. 
The  charm  of  this  life  is  having  no  chores  to  be 
done.  No  shaving  ;  no  floors  to  scrub  or  win 
dows  to  clean." 

170 


The  Horn  of  Plenty 

"  Poor  boy  !  And  you  must  work  doubly 
hard  when  we  first  get  back.  To  begin  with, 
you  will  have  to  eat  your  half  of  all  the  eggs 
that  have  been  laid." 

"  Not  an  egg  !     I  swear  it !  " 

"  Let 's  see  —  four  days.  That  will  make 
about  thirty-six  eggs.  You  must  eat  eighteen 
this  afternoon." 

Their  heads  were  of  necessity  very  close 
together,  and  as  Pats  with  a  frown  turned  his 
face  to  look  at  her,  she  continued :  "  And 
to-morrow  being  your  birthday,  you  shall  have 
a  double  allowance.  Just  think  of  being  thirty- 
one  years  old !  Why,  Patsy,  it  take  one's 
breath  away." 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  stupendous  thought." 

"  How  does  it  feel  ?  " 

"Well,  I  can  still  see  and  hear  a  little;  and  I 
am  holding  on  to  my  teeth.  Of  course,  the 
lungs,  liver,  brain,  and  all  the  more  perishable 
organs  have  long  since  gone." 

"  Naturally." 

"  But  the  heart  is  still  there,  and  thumping 
hard  and  strong  for  the  finest  woman  in  the 
world." 

"  Well,  the  heart  is  everything,  and  you  are  a 
good  boy  —  I  mean  a  good  old  man." 

171 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  Thanks." 

"And  as  soon  as  we  get  to  the  cottage 
I  shall  — "  She  pressed  his  arm,  stopped 
suddenly,  and  listened.  "  Why,  what  was 
that  ? " 

"  What  was  what  ?  " 

"  Out  on  the  water,  off  the  point  there.  I 
heard  a  noise  like  a  steamboat/' 

Both  listened. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  certainly  thought  so." 

Again  they  listened.  Nothing  was  heard, 
however,  except  the  lapping  of  the  waves  along 
the  beach. 

At  last,  in  a  low  tone,  Pats  muttered : 

"  A  whole  fleet  might  be  within  a  mile  on  a 
day  like  this  and  nobody  know  it.  Are  you 
sure  it  was  n't  Solomon  ?  He  is  a  heavy 
breather  sometimes." 

She  sighed.  "Very  likely.  With  this  blan 
ket  about  one's  ears  anything  was  possible." 

They  started  on  again.  A  few  moments  later 
the  final  shower  had  ceased.  Swiftly  the  clouds 
dispersed,  but  the  mist,  although  illumined  by 
the  sun,  still  lingered  over  land  and  sea.  Solo 
mon,  followed  by  his  friends,  climbed  the  gentle 
ascent  at  the  end  of  the  beach,  and  as  they  has- 

172 


The  Horn  of  Plenty 

tened  on  among  the  pines  all  felt  a  mild  excite 
ment  on  approaching  the  cottage. 

Gathered  about  the  doorway,  as  if  to  welcome 
the  returning  travellers,  stood  a  few  white  hens 
and  the  pompous  rooster.  To  this  impressive 
bird  Pats  took  off  his  hat  with  a  deferential 
bow. 

"  Glad  to  see  you  again,  Senator." 

"  Why  c  Senator '  ?  Because  nobody  listens 
when  he  talks  ?  "  Elinor  had  been  to 
Washington. 

"  Yes ;  and  he  knows  so  little  and  feels  so 
good  over  it." 

From  its  hiding-place  behind  the  vines,  Pats 
took  the  key  and  opened  the  door.  With  a 
military  salute  he  stood  aside,  and  the  lady  en 
tered.  He  followed ;  and  as  he  unslung  his 
knapsack  Elinor  looked  about  her  with  a 
pleased  expression. 

"  How  rich  it  all  is  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
had  forgotten  what  a  splendid  collection  we 
had." 

Pats  drew  a  long  breath,  as  if  to  inhale  the 
magnificence. 

"  Are  you  familiar  with  bric-a-brac  shops  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes. " 

173 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"And  with  the  rooms  of  old  palaces  and 
chateaux  that  are  opened  only  when  visitors 
arrive  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"Well,  this  is  that  smell." 

She  also  inhaled,  and  closed  her  eyes.  "  So 
it  is." 

"  It 's  the  tapestries  and  old  wood,  and  the 
bloom  on  the  paintings,  I  suppose.  But  it 's 
good.  I  like  it." 

"  It 's  a  little  musty,  perhaps,  but  —  " 

She  stopped  so  suddenly  that  Pats  turned 
toward  her.  With  a  look  of  surprise  she  was 
pointing  to  the  dining-table,  close  beside  them. 
In  the  centre  of  this  table,  and  very  white  against 
the  dark  oak,  lay  an  envelope.  Upon  it  had 
been  placed  a  silver  spoon  to  prevent  disturb 
ance  from  any  possible  gust  of  air  through  the 
open  door. 

"  Some  one  has  been  here ! "  And  she  re 
garded  Pats  with  startled  eyes. 

Before  touching  the  letter  he  instinctively 
cast  a  look  about  the  room  for  other  evidence. 
While  he  was  doing  it,  Elinor  pointed  toward 
the  farther  end  of  the  cottage,  to  the  kitchen 
table,  and  whispered  : 

"  Look ! " 

174 


The  Horn  of  Plenty 

Upon  that  table  rested  a  pile  of  cans,  boxes, 
and  sundry  packages.  For  a  short  moment 
both  regarded  in  silence  this  almost  incredible 
display.  Then  Pats  took  up  the  letter.  On 
the  envelope  was  no  address  —  no  name  nor 
writing  whatsoever.  He  turned  it  over  in  his 
fingers.  "  I  suppose  it  is  intended  for  the  old 
gentleman,  the  owner  of  the  place." 

"  And  how  careful  they  are  that  nobody  shall 
know  his  name." 

"  There  must  have  been  several  men  here  to 
bring  up  all  these  provisions,  and  whoever  left 
the  letter  had  no  intention  of  giving  the  old 
gentleman  away,"  and  Pats  tossed  the  letter 
upon  the  table. 

Elinor  in  turn  picked  it  up  and  looked  it 
over.  "  I  would  like  to  know  what  it  says;" 

"  So  would  I,"  said  Pats.  "  Let  's  open 
it." 

"Open  another  man's  letter!"  And  she 
frowned. 

"  It  may  not  be  a  letter.  It  may  be  some  in 
formation  as  to  when  they  are  coming  again,  or 
what  he  is  to  do  about  provisions  or  something 
important  for  us  to  know.  Our  getting  away 
from  here  may  depend  on  what  is  inside  that 
envelope." 

175 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  Yes,  that  is  possible." 

"  Well,  open  it." 

But  she  handed  it  back  to  him.  "No, you 
must  do  it." 

Pats  tore  open  the  envelope.  Elinor  stepped 
nearer  and  stood  beside  him,  that  she  also  might 
read. 

"  It  is  in  French."     Then  he  began  : 

"  Monsieur  le  Due  —  " 

"  Why,  the  old  gentleman  was  a  duke  ! "  ex 
claimed  Elinor. 

"  I  am  not  surprised.  You  know  we  always 
suspected  him  of  being  a  howling  swell.  But 
this  writing  and  the  language  are  too  much  for 
me.  You  really  must  read  it."  And  he  put 
the  paper  in  her  hands. 

Elinor's  French  was  perfect,  but  after  the 
first  sentence  Pats  interrupted : 

"Translate  as  you  go  along.  It  is  too  im 
portant  to  take  chances  with,  and  I  never  was 
at  home  in  that  deceitful  tongue." 

Elinor  dropped  into  the  chair  that  stood 
beside  her.  Pats  sat  upon  the  edge  of  the 
table. 

MONSIEUR  LE  Due : 

It  is  with  a  grand  regret  that  I  find  myself  unable  to  pay 
my  respects  in  person  to  your  Grace,  but  a  broken  ankle  keeps 

I76 


The  Horn  of  Plenty 

me  a  prisoner  in  the  cabin.  If  there  is  anything  your  Grace 
wishes  to  communicate,  have  the  extreme  goodness  to  send 
me  a  note  by  the  bearer.  He  can  be  trusted. 

I  leave  the  stores  following  last  instructions.      Enclosed   is 
the  list.      The  bearer  will  bring  to  me   your  new  list  from 
behind  the  door,  if  by  chance  you  are  not  at  home. 
Your  Grace's  devoted  servitor, 

JACQUES  LAFENESTRE. 

She  laid  the  letter  on  the  table.  "  What  a 
shame  !  It  really  tells  us  nothing." 

"  Not  a  thing.  Lafenestre  might  at  least 
have  mentioned  the  date  of  the  next  visit." 

"They  all  seem  dreadfully  afraid  we  may 
learn  something."  She  took  up  the  other  paper 
and  unfolded  it.  "  This  is  the  list." 

Then  she  read : 

"Four  sacks  corn-meal, 
Two  sacks  Graham  flour, 
Four  boxes  crackers, 
Two  barrels  potatoes." 

"  Those  must  be  downstairs,"  said  Pats.     "  I 
see  the  cellar  door  is  open." 
Elinor  continued : 

"  One  box  lemons, 
Four  dozen  candles, 
Four  dozen  Pontet  Canet, 
Six  pounds  tobacco — " 

"  Good  !  "  said  Pats.     "  Just  what  we  need." 
12  177 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

She  went  on : 

"  Four  pounds  coffee, 
Four  boxes  matches, 
One  pocket-knife, 
Six  pairs  woollen  socks, 
Six  old  maids  — " 

"Six  what?" 

"  Six  old  maids :  vieilles  files  —  that  is  cer 
tainly  old  maids." 

"Yes,  but,  Heavens!  What  does  he  want 
so  many  for?  And  where  are  they?  In  the 
cellar?" 

She  smiled,  still  regarding  the  paper.  "  But 
you  needn't  worry.  They  are  something  to 
wear.  It  says  six  old  maids,  extra  thick  and 
double  length." 

"  Double  length !  Well,  each  man  to  his 
taste.  Go  on." 

"  That  is  all,"  and  she  dropped  the  paper  on 
the  table  and  looked  up  into  his  face.  Thought 
fully  he  stroked  the  three  days'  beard  upon  his 
chin.  He  was  watching  through  the  open  door 
the  last  clouds  of  mist  as  they  floated  by,  driven 
before  the  wind. 

Suddenly  he  jumped  to  his  feet.  "  Then 
you  were  right  about  the  boat !  You  did  hear 
one.  And  it  was  here  an  hour  ago!  " 

178 


The  Horn  of  Plenty 

Quickly  he  snatched  a  shotgun  from  the  wall, 
rushed  out  of  the  house,  down  to  the  edge  of 
the  point  and  discharged  one  of  the  barrels. 
He  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  fired  the 
second  barrel  and  shouted  again.  For  a  few 
moments  he  stood  looking  off  into  the  slowly 
dissolving  fog,  listening  vainly  for  an  answer 
ing  sound. 

Elinor  joined  him. 

"  I  know  it  *s  of  no  use,"  he  said,  "  for  the 
wind  is  in  the  wrong  direction.  But  I  thought 
I  would  try  it." 

A  moment  later  the  final  cloud  of  mist  in 
which  they  stood  was  swept  away,  giving  a  clear 
view  over  all  the  waters  to  the  south.  And 
they  saw,  disappearing  toward  the  west,  around 
a  promontory,  a  speck  upon  the  blue  horizon, 
and  behind  it  a  line  of  smoke. 

In  a  melancholy  silence  both  watched  this  far 
away  handful  of  vapor  until  it  faded  into  space. 
When  no  trace  remained  of  the  vanished  craft, 
Pats  dropped  the  empty  gun,  slowly  turned  his 
head  and  regarded  his  companion.  In  Elinor's 
eyes,  as  they  met  his  own,  he  recognized  a  gal 
lant  effort  at  suppressing  tears.  Remembering 
her  resolve  of  yesterday  he  smiled,  —  a  smile  of 
admiration,  of  gratitude,  and  encouragement. 

179 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

She  also  smiled,  for  she  read  his  thoughts. 
And  something  more  was  plainly  written  in  his 
face,  —  that  self-effacing,  immortal  thing  that 
lovers  live  on ;  and  it  shone  clear  and  honest 
from  this  lover's  eyes.  Whereupon  she  stepped 
forward ;  he  gathered  her  in  his  arms,  and  an 
ancient  ceremony  was  observed,  —  very  ancient, 
indeed,  primitive  and  easily  executed. 

Solomon,  weary  of  this  oft-repeated  scene, 
looked  away  with  something  like  a  sigh,  then 
closed  his  eyes  in  patience. 


180 


XIV 
PILGRIMS 

ANOTHER  June. 
Along  the  northern  shore  of  the  St. 
Lawrence  Gulf,  through  the  cold,  gray 
light    of    early    dawn,    a    yacht    was   steaming 
eastward. 

Leaning  against  the  rail,  near  the  bow,  a 
woman  with  eager  eyes  watched  the  elusive 
coast.  But  this  coast,  in  the  spreading  light, 
was  rapidly  revealing  itself,  becoming  less 
ethereal,  more  savage  and  majestic.  The 
woman  was  daintily  attired.  Every  detail  of 
her  apparel,  from  the  Parisian  hat  to  the  per 
fect-fitting  shoes,  while  simple  and  designed 
expressly  pour  le  voyage,  was  sumptuous  in  its 
simplicity.  Although  about  thirty-five  years  of 
age,  her  round,  rather  wide  face,  graceful  figure, 
and  vivacious  expression  would  have  made  de- 

181 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

ception  easy  if  she  cared  to  practise  it.  In 
feelings,  in  manner,  and  in  appearance,  she  was 
eighteen.  And  she  would  never  be  older.  A 
peculiar  droop  at  the  outer  corners  of  two  large 
and  very  dark  eyes,  and  a  mouth  —  too  small 
for  the  face  —  with  a  slight  and  rather  infantile 
projection  of  the  upper  lip  gave  a  plaintive,  half- 
melancholy  expression  to  an  otherwise  merry  and 
youthful  face. 

Behind  her,  pacing  to  and  fro,  a  strongly  built, 
elderly  man  with  heavy  face  and  heavy  hands, 
also  watched  the  coast. 

(c  Voila,  Jacques  !  "  and  the  lady  pointed  to  a 
promontory  in  front,  just  revealed  by  the  vanish 
ing  mist.  "  Le  voita,  n'est-ce  pas  ?  " 

The  man  stepped  forward  and  stood  beside 
her.  After  a  careful  scrutiny  he  replied,  also 
in  French  : 

"  Truly,  I  think  it  is." 

"  Ah,  le  bonheur  !  At  last !  And  how  soon 
shall  we  land  ?  " 

He  hesitated,  stroking  the  end  of  his  nose 
with  a  stubby  finger.  "In  less  than  two 
hours." 

"  In  less  than  two  hours  !  Absurd  !  You 
mean  to  say  in  less  than  twenty  minutes,  is 
it  not?" 

182 


Pilgrims 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  respectful  pro 
testation.  "  But,  Princess,  deign  to  remember 
that  we  are  still  some  miles  from  this  headland, 
and  that  Monsieur,  your  father,  is  yet  farther 
away,  —  some  fifteen  miles,  at  the  very  end  of 
the  bay  which  lies  beyond." 

She  frowned  and  turned  away.  "  Are  we 
going  as  fast  as  possible  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Well,  if  you  are  not  sure  of  it,  Jacques,  go 
down  and  tell  that  engineer  to  enliven  his  exas 
perating  machinery.  Make  everything  turn 
faster,  or  I  shall  jump  into  the  sea  and  swim 
ahead.  It  is  of  a  slowness  to  rend  the 
nerves." 

Jacques  Lafenestre  moved  away  to  carry  out 
this  order.  From  his  youth  up  he  had  served 
this  lady  and  her  parents.  And  when  the  father, 
for  excellent  reasons,  left  France  in  haste  and 
came  into  the  wilderness,  the  old  servant  fol 
lowed.  Later  on  he  settled  in  Quebec  as 
keeper  of  an  inn.  And  ever  since  that  day  he 
had  maintained  communication  with  his  master. 

As  the  Princess  walked  impatiently  up  and 
down  the  deck,  erect  and  with  elastic  tread, 
often  looking  at  her  watch  and  frowning,  she 
gave  the  impression  of  a  commanding  little  per- 

183 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

son,  much  accustomed  to  having  her  own  way 
— and  with  no  talent  for  resignation.  And  when, 
a  few  moments  later,  another  individual  appeared 
upon  the  deck,  a  tall,  thin,  dark-robed  ecclesias 
tic,  evidently  of  high  degree,  with  fine  features 
and  a  stately  bearing,  she  hastened  to  express 
her  annoyance.  To  his  polite  greeting  she 
replied  rapidly : 

"  Good-morning,  your  Grace ;  but  tell  me, 
did  you  ever  see  anything  like  this  boat  ?  Did 
you  ever  imagine  a  thing  could  crawl  with  such 
a  slowness  —  such  a  slowness  ?  I  shall  die  of 
it !  I  believe  the  screw  is  working  backwards." 

The  Archbishop  smiled,  —  that  is,  his  mouth 
lengthened,  for  mirth  and  he  were  strangers,  — 
"  But  it  seems  to  me  we  move,  Princess,  and 
quite  rapidly." 

"  Rapidly !  Well,  never  mind.  Time  and 
the  wind  will  get  us  there.  But  why  are  you 
up  so  early  ?  This  is  an  hour  when  gentlemen 
are  abed." 

"  I  could  not  sleep." 

"  Ah,  the  misfortune  !  For  you  may  have  a 
hard  day.  Remember,  you  are  to  do  your  best, 
and  use  your  strongest  arguments.  You  will 
need  them.  My  father  is  wilful." 

"  Have  no  fears,  Princess,  I  shall  do  all  in  my 
184 


Pilgrims 

power,  for  the  cause  seems  righteous.  The  Due 
de  Fontrevault  is,  as  you  say,  too  old  a  man  to 
be  left  alone  under  such  conditions." 

"  Surely  !  And  you  are  the  one  of  all  others 
to  convince  him.  He  will  not  listen  to  the 
rest  of  us.  And  don't  fail  to  impress  upon 
him  his  duty  to  his  family.  That  is  your 
strongest  point,  is  it  not  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  that  now  he  can  return  with 
safety." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  No,  do  not  rely  too 
much  on  that,  for  he  loves  his  wilderness.  And 
he  has  known  for  a  long  time  all  danger  was 
past.  Better  attack  his  conscience,  and  his 
sense  of  duty." 

"  As  you  say,  Princess.  And  I  shall  spare 
no  effort." 

"Then  you  will  succeed."  And  looking  up 
with  a  smile,  "  You  could  convince  anybody  of 
anything,  dear  Archbishop.  A  few  words  from 
you,  if  you  could  only  get  him  alone,  and  the 
devil  himself  would  turn  over  a  new  leaf — per 
haps  join  the  Church.  Who  knows  ?  " 

For  these  sentiments  his  Grace  had  no 
responsive  smile.  This  lady  from  Paris,  while  a 
good  Catholic,  seemed  to  have  so  little  reverence 
for  certain  sanctities  that  he  was  always  on  his 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

guard.  Her  nature  was  not  of  the  sort  he  pre 
ferred  to  deal  with.  There  were  too  many 
conflicting  elements.  No  one  could  tell  with 
precision  just  when  she  was  serious  or  when  she 
was  having  a  little  fun.  And,  moreover,  the 
dignity  of  an  archbishop  was  not  a  thing  to  be 
Compromised.  But  she  was  a  grande  damey  a 
person  of  great  influence  —  also  of  great  wealth 
and  a  free  giver.  And  the  Archbishop  was  no 
fool. 

As  they  rounded  the  promontory  and  came  in 
sight  of  the  bay  the  emotion  of  the  Princess  was 
apparent.  Impatiently  she  walked  the  deck. 
With  the  sun  once  fairly  above  the  water,  the 
little  point  of  land  at  the  farther  end  of  the  bay 
showed  clearly  in  the  morning  light. 

She  beckoned  the  old  servant  to  her  side. 

"  There  it  is,  Jacques  !  I  see  distinctly  the 
cottage,  a  little  mass  of  green  against  the  shadows 
of  the  pines.  And  surely  there  is  smoke  from 
the  chimney !  My  father  is  an  early  riser ; 
already  up  and  cooking  his  breakfast.  Is  it  not 
so,  Jacques  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  not  doubt  Monsieur  le  Due 
cooks  his  breakfast  at  this  moment." 

"  What  enormous  trees ! "  she  went  on. 
"  Beautiful,  beautiful !  And  they  stretch  away 

186 


Pilgrims 

forever.  An  ocean  of  pines  !  I  had  forgotten 
they  were  so  tall  —  so  gigantic.  How  many 
minutes  now,  Jacques,  before  we  arrive  ? " 

Jacques  frowned  and  shrugged  his  heavy 
shoulders.  "  I  shall  not  tell  you." 

"  Wicked  old  man  !  " 

And  again,  through  her  glass,  she  studied  the 
coast. 

He  had  carried  this  lady  in  his  arms  before 
she  could  walk ;  he  had  superintended,  in  a 
way,  her  childhood  ;  and  so,  like  many  old  ser 
vants  in  France,  he  was  not  expected  to  bear  in 
mind,  at  all  times,  certain  differences  in  birth. 

With  a  fresh  enthusiasm  she  exclaimed : 
"  And  there,  down  below,  to  the  right,  is  the 
little  beach  —  the  ravishing  little  beach  !  How 
I  loved  it !  Here,  take  the  glasses,  Jacques,  and 
regard  it." 

Jacques  regarded.     "  Yes,  it  is  a  good  beach." 

She  dropped  the  glasses  in  their  case,  folded 
the  daintily  gloved  hands'  upon  the  rail,  and  for 
several  moments  gazed  in  silence  at  the  coast  in 
front.  Her  face,  in  repose,  became  somewhat 
sadder,  and  now  there  was  a  moisture  in  the 
eyes. 

"  Tell  me  again,  Jacques,  just  how  long  it  is 
since  you  were  here  ? " 

187 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  Eight  months." 

"  Much  can  happen  in  eight  months." 
"Yes,  without  doubt,  but  then   it  is   to  be 
remembered  that  when  I  was  here  last,  in  the 
month  of  September  —  all  went  well." 
"  You  did  not  see  him  yourself,  however." 
"  No,  my  broken  ankle  kept  me  aboard,  but 
those    who    went    ashore   with   the    provisions 
brought  a  good  report." 
"  But  they  did  not  see  him." 
"  No,  for  he  was  away,  probably  on  one  of 
his  hunting  trips.      But  why  disquiet  yourself, 
Princess?     We  see  the  smoke  rising  from  the 
chimney." 

"  Yes,  it  is  true.  You  have  reason." 
When,  at  last,  they  arrived,  the  Princess  was 
one  of  the  first  to  land,  and  she  hastened  up  the 
narrow  path  to  the  grove  above.  Although  in 
haste  to  greet  her  father,  she  paused  among  the 
big  trees  to  inhale  the  piney  fragrance.  With  a 
smile  of  rapture  she  gazed  upward  and  about. 
These  old  friends  !  How  unchanged !  And 
how  many  years  they  carried  her  back  !  As  a 
very  little  girl  her  imagination  had  revelled  with 
out  restraint  and,  to  her  heart's  desire,  in  this 
enchanted  grove.  And  now  she  was  listening 
to  the  old-time  murmurings,  high  above  —  the 

188 


Pilgrims 

same  plaintive  whispering  —  the  familiar  voices, 
never  to  be  forgotten  —  that  told  her  everything 
a  little  girl  could  wish  to  hear,  and  whenever  she 
cared  to  hear  it. 

But  she  lingered  for  a  moment  only.  With 
eager  steps  she  hurried  toward  the  cottage  — 
picturing  to  herself  an  old  gentleman's  amaze 
ment  when  he  recognized  his  visitor. 

The  door  was  open.  She  stood  upon  the 
threshold  and  looked  in  —  and  listened.  No 
sound  came  to  her  ears  except  from  the  old 
clock  behind  the  door.  How  familiar  this 
solemn  warning  of  the  passing  time !  It  seemed 
a  part  of  her  youth,  left  behind  and  suddenly 
found  again.  But  her  heart  was  beating  many 
times  faster  than  the  stately  ticking  of  this  pas 
sionless  machine.  Silently  she  entered  and  stood 
beside  the  table.  She  saw  the  hangings,  the 
pictures,  the  busts,  the  furniture,  precisely  as 
she  had  known  them,  years  ago. 

From  behind  the  tapestry  came  a  sound, 
faintly,  as  of  some  one  moving.  She  smiled  and 
there  was  a  quivering  of  the  lips.  Then,  in  a 
low  but  clear  voice,  she  said : 

"Petifpere." 


189 


XV 
REVELATIONS 

THE  rustle  of  a  sudden  movement —  and 
an  exclamation  half  suppressed  —  came 
from  within  the  chamber.     Then  the 
tapestry  was  pushed  aside. 

The  Princess,  at  sight  of  the  figure  that 
emerged,  took  a  backward  step,  her  smile  of 
welcome  supplanted  by  a  look  of  wonder. 
Another  woman  stood  before  her,  also  pausing 
in  surprise,  a  hand  still  holding  the  tapestry. 
This  woman  was  young  and  slight  of  figure, 
erect,  dark-haired,  and  sunburned.  In  a  single 
glance  the  quick  eye  of  the  Princess  took  in  a 
number  of  details.  She  noticed  that  the  stranger 
wore  a  jacket  so  faded  that  no  trace  of  its  origi 
nal  color  remained  ;  that  the  skirt,  equally  faded, 
was  also  stained  and  patched.  But  to  the  critical 
Parisian  it  was  obvious  that  these  garments, 
although  threadbare,  frayed,  and  weather-beaten, 
fitted  extremely  well. 

190 


Revelations 

Now,  while  the  Princess  was  the  more  sur 
prised  of  the  two,  the  girl  in  the  faded  garments 
experienced  a  greater  bewilderment.  For  this 
visitor  bore  a  startling  resemblance  to  the  minia 
ture, —  the  wife  whose  grave  was  among  the 
pines.  And  Elinor  stared,  as  if  half  awake,  at 
the  round  face,  the  drooping  eyes,  and  the  very 
familiar  features  of  this  sudden  guest.  Even  the 
arrangement  of  the  hair  was  unchanged,  and  the 
infantile  mouth  appeared  exactly  as  depicted  in 
the  little  portrait  that  hung  beside  her.  Had 
this  portrait  come  to  life  and  stood  near  its  own 
chair,  the  effect  would  have  been  the  same. 

But  the  lady  from  Paris  was  the  first  to  find 
her  voice.  In  French,  with  somewhat  frigid 
politeness,  she  said  : 

"  Pardon  me,  Mademoiselle ;  I  expected  to 
find  another  person  here." 

Also  in  French  the  girl  replied : 

"  Madame  is  the  daughter,  perhaps,  of  the 
gentleman  who  lived  here  ?  " 

The  Princess,  with  her  head,  made  a  slight 
affirmative  movement.  And  she  frowned  more 
from  anxiety  than  resentment  as  she  asked : 
"  You  say  lived  here.  Does  he  not  live  here 
now?" 

And  she  read  in  the  face  before  her,  from 
191 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

its  sympathy  and  sadness,  the  answer  she 
dreaded. 

Elinor,  before  replying,  came  nearer  to  the 
table.  "  Do  you  speak  English  ?  " 

The  Princess  nodded,  and  seated  herself  in 
the  chair  of  the  miniature,  and  with  clasped 
hands  and  a  pale  face,  whispered : 

"  He  is  -  dead  ?  " 

Elinor  took  the  opposite  chair.  "  May  I  tell 
you  about  it  in  English  ?  I  can  do  it  more 
easily  and  better  than  in  French." 

"  Certainly,  certainly.  And  tell  me  all  — 
everything." 

Bravely  the  Princess  listened.  The  tears 
flowed  as  she  heard  the  story,  pressing  her 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  even  trying  to 
smile  at  times  in  grateful  sympathy  for  the 
narrator's  efforts  at  consolation. 

"  Tell  me  how  he  looked  the  day  you  found 
him.  Did  he  seem  to  have  been  —  ill  —  to 
have  suffered  ? " 

"  We  thought  him  asleep.  There  was  no 
trace  of  suffering.  The  color  of  his  face  sur 
prised  us." 

When  the  story  of  his  burial  was  finished, 
the  Princess  rose  from  her  seat,  came  around 
and  stood  by  Elinor,  and  took  her  hand.  "  I 

192 


Revelations 

owe  you  so  much.  You  were  very  good  and 
considerate.  I  am  grateful,  very  grateful.  He 
was  unfortunate  in  his  life.  It  is  a  consolation 
to  know  his  death  was  happy,  and  that  he  was 
reverently  buried." 

Then  Elinor,  after  hesitating,  decided  to  ask 
a  question. 

"If  it  is  no  secret,  and  if  you  care  to  do  it, 
would  you  mind  telling  me  why  he  came  across 
the  water,  out  here  in  the  forest,  and  lived  in 
such  a  way  ?  " 

"  Assuredly  !  And  even  if  it  were  a  secret 
I  should  tell  you.  In  the  first  place,  he  was 
the  Due  de  Fontrevault,  a  very  good  name  in 
France,  as  perhaps  you  know.  He  fell  in  love 
—  oh,  so  fiercely  in  love !  —  with  a  lady  who 
was  to  marry  —  well,  who  was  betrothed  to  a 
king.  It  sounds  like  a  fairy  tale,  n'est-ce  pas?  " 

"  It  does,  indeed  !  " 

The  Princess  was  now  sitting  on  the  arm  of 
Elinor's  chair,  looking  down  into  her  face,  in  a 
motherly,  or  elder  sisterly,  sort  of  way. 

"  Well,  you  would  know  all  about  the  king 
if  I  told  you.  He  died  only  the  other  day,  so 
you  will  soon  guess  him.  Cetait  un  vaurien,  un 
imbecile.  My  father  not  only  loved  this  —  " 

She  stopped,  abruptly,  leaning  forward  with 
13  iQ3 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

one  hand  upon  the  table.  "  Mais,  Mon  Dieu  ! 
there  is  my  portrait  !  My  old  miniature  of 
twenty  years  ago !  How  came  it  there  ? " 
And  she  pointed  to  the  opposite  chair. 

"We  found  it  hanging  there  when  we  came, 
and  have  never  disturbed  it." 

"  You  found  it  hanging  there,  on  the  back  of 
that  chair  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  My  own  chair  —  where  I  used  to  sit !  So, 
then,  I  was  always  before  him  ! " 

Elinor  nodded.  In  the  eyes  of  the  Princess 
came  fresh  tears.  She  undertook  to  say  more, 
but  failed ;  and  getting  up,  she  walked  around 
the  table  and  dropped  into  Pats's  chair,  gurgling 
something  in  French  about  the  petit  pere.  Then 
she  broke  down  completely,  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands,  and  made  no  effort  to  control  her 
grief. 

When  she  recovered  composure,  her  self- 
reproaches  were  bitter  for  allowing  so  many 
years  to  go  by  without  a  visit  to  this  devoted 
parent.  Smiling  as  she  dried  her  eyes,  —  the 
eyes  with  the  drooping  corners,  old  friends  to 
Elinor,  —  she  said :  "  You,  also,  had  me  for  a 
guest  all  this  time." 

"  No,  for  a  hostess.     It  is  your  house/' 
194 


Revelations 

"  And  where  do  you  sit  ? " 

"  Here,  where  I  am." 

"  Then  I  have  been  your  vis-a-vis  ?  " 

"Yes." 

The  Princess  smiled.  "Well,  my  face  must 
be  terribly  familiar  to  you.  Perhaps  you  recog 
nized  me  at  first  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  supposed  you  must  be  his  daughter. 
But  we  believed  the  portrait  to  be  your  mother." 

"  How  amusing  !  But  poor  mamma !  there 
is  no  portrait  of  her  here.  She  came  away  in 
too  much  of  a  hurry  to  stop  for  trifles." 

She  studied  the  miniature  in  silence,  then, 
leaning  back  in  her  chair: 

"  MaiSy  voyons  !     I  was  telling  something." 

"  About  your  father  —  why  he  came  here." 

"  Ah,  yes !  Well,  for  a  man  to  marry,  or  try 
to  marry  —  or  to  dream  of  marrying — a  prin 
cess  formally  betrothed  to  a  king  was  quelque 
chose  d'inoute.  But  he  was  badly  brought  up, 
this  little  father  of  mine  :  always  having  his  own 
way,  —  un  enfant  gdtey  —  you  know,  a  child  made 
worse  —  a  child  damaged  —  hurt — what  am  I 
trying  to  say  ?  " 

"  A  spoiled  child." 

"  Of  course !  But  the  King  also  was  a 
spoiled  child,  which  is  to  be  expected  in  a  king- 

195 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

However,  that  did  not  smooth  things  for  my 
little  father,  as  the  King  was  beside  himself  with 
rage —  furious,  wild  ! " 

"  He  was  jealous  ?  " 

The  Princess  laughed  —  more  of  a  triumphant 
chuckle  than  a  laugh.  "  And  well  he  had  rea 
son  ! " 

"  Then  the  lady  preferred  your  father  to  the 
King?" 

"  Man  Dieu  !  She  had  eyes."  Then,  with  a 
slight  motion  of  a  hand  :  "  And  she  had  sense." 

Elinor  smiled.     "  But  a  king  is  a  great  catch." 

The  little  lady  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"That  made  nothing  to  her.  She  was  as  good 
as  the  King.  She  was  a  grande  princess.  Not 
an  every-day  princess,  like  me." 

"Arc you  a  princess?"  Elinor  asked  in  sur 
prise. 

"Yes,  an  ordinary  princess  —  the  common, 
every-day  kind.  But  she  was  a  princesse  royale. 
And  so  he  did  this."  With  a  comprehensive 
gesture  of  both  her  hands  she  indicated  the  tap 
estries,  paintings,  busts,  furniture,  and  the  entire 
contents  of  the  house. 

"You  mean  he  brought  his  own  possessions 
off  here,  across  the  water?" 

"  Precisely." 

196 


Revelations 

"  And  did  he  bring  the  Princess  with  him  ? " 

"What  a  question!  It  is  evident,  Made 
moiselle,  that  you  were  not  acquainted  with  my 
father,  the  Due  de  Fontrevault." 

"Then  this  princess  was  your  mother?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  that  is  her  grave  out  there,  beneath  the 
pines,  next  to  his  ?  " 

The  Princess  nodded,  and  blinked,  but  smiled: 
"  Poor  mamma  !  She  only  lived  a  few  years 
after  that ;  I  was  nine  when  she  died." 

"  Were  you  born  here  ? " 

"  In  there."  And  she  glanced  toward  Eli 
nor's  chamber. 

"You  must  have  had  a  lonely  childhood." 

"  No.  In  those  days  we  had  a  servant  —  and 
a  cow." 

"  But  why  should  your  father  and  mother 
escape  to  this  wilderness  ?  Surely  a  woman  may 
marry  whom  she  pleases  in  these  days." 

"  Certainly.  But  an  agent  was  sent  to  arrest 
my  father  —  on  a  legal  pretext  —  and  in  the 
quarrel  this  agent  —  also  a  gentleman  of  high 
rank  —  was  killed.  So  that  was  murder.  Just 
what  his  Majesty  wished,  perhaps.  And  my 
father,  in  haste,  packed  a  few  things  on  a  ship 
and  disappeared." 

197 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"A  few  things  ! " 

"  The  King  never  knew  where  he  went.  Nor 
did  any  one  else.  But  enough  of  myself  and 
family.  Tell  me  of  your  coming  here.  And 
of  your  friend.  Is  she  still  here  ?  " 

"  My  friend  was  a  man." 

"Ah!" 

The  Princess  raised  her  eyebrows,  involunta 
rily.  "  Pardon  me  if  I  am  indiscreet,  but  you 
are  not  married  ? " 

"  No." 

Now  this  Parisian,  with  other  Europeans,  had 
heard  startling  tales  about  American  girls  ;  of 
their  independence  and  of  their  amazing  free 
dom.  She  leaned  forward,  a  lively  curiosity  in 
her  face.  To  her  shame  be  it  said  that  she  was 
always  entertained  by  a  sprightly  scandal,  and 
seldom  shocked. 

"  How  interesting !  And  this  gentleman, 
was  he  young  ?  " 

But  the  American  girl  did  not  reply  at  once. 
She  had  divined  her  companion's  thoughts  and 
was  distressed,  and  provoked.  This  feeling  of 
resentment,  however,  she  repressed  as  she  could 
not,  in  justice,  blame  the  Princess  —  nor  any 
body  else  —  for  being  reasonably  surprised.  So, 
she  began  at  the  beginning  and  told  the  tale:  of 

198 


Revelations 

the  stupid  error  by  which  she  was  left  with  a 
man  she  hardly  knew  on  this  point  of  land ;  of 
their  desperate  effort  to  escape  in  September,  by 
taking  to  a  raft  and  floating  down  the  river ; 
how  they  failed  to  land  and  were  carried  out  to 
sea,  nearly  perishing  from  exposure.  She  de 
scribed  their  reaching  shore  at  last,  several  miles 
to  the  east.  And  when  she  spoke  of  the  early 
snow,  in  October,  of  the  violent  storms  and  the 
long  winter,  the  Princess  nodded. 

"  Yes,  I  remember  those  winters  well.  But 
we  were  happy,  my  father  and  I." 

"  And  so  were  we,"  said  Elinor. 

"  Then  this  stranger  turned  out  well  ?  A 
gentleman,  a  man  of  honor  ?  " 

"Yes,  oh,  yes!  And  more  than  that.  He 
gave  his  life  for  mine." 

From  the  look  which  came  into  Elinor's  face, 
and  from  a  quiver  in  the  voice,  the  sympathetic 
visitor  knew  there  was  a  deeper  feeling  than  had 
been  expressed.  She  said,  gently  : 

"  Ypu  are  tired  now.  Tell  me  the  rest  of 
the  story  later." 

"  No,  no.  I  will  tell  you  now.  One  morn 
ing,  about  a  month  ago,  the  first  pleasant  day 
after  a  week  of  rain,  we  started  off  along  the 
bank  of  the  river  to  see  if  the  flood  had  carried 

199 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

away  our  raft  —  the  new  one.  Just  out  there, 
in  the  woods,  not  far  from  here,  I  stepped  to 
the  edge  of  the  bank  and  looked  down  at  the 
water.  The  river  was  higher  than  we  had  ever 
seen  it,  —  fuller,  swifter,  with  logs  and  bushes  in 
it.  Even  big  trees  came  along,  all  rushing  to 
the  sea  at  an  awful  speed." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  river  in  spring.  The 
water  is  yellow,  and  with  a  frightful  current,  — 
fascinating  to  watch,  but  it  terrifies." 

Elinor  nodded.  "  Fascinating  to  watch,  yes. 
But  Pats  told  me  — " 

"Pats?" 

"  My  friend.     His  name  was  Patrick." 

"  And  Pats  is  the  little  name  —  the  familiar 
—  for  Patrick?" 

"  Sometimes." 

"Ah,  I  never  knew  that!  But  pardon  me. 
Please  go  on." 

"  He  told  me  to  come  back  —  that  the  bank 
was  undermined  by  the  river  and  might  give 
way.  He  said :  f  Whoever  enters  that  river  to 
day  leaves  hope  behind.'  At  the  very  instant 
I  started  back  the  earth  under  me  gave  way, 
and  —  and,  well,  I  went  down  to  the  river  and 
under  the  water  —  an  awful  distance.  I  thought 
J  should  never  come  up  again.  But  I  did  come 


Revelations 

up  at  last,  gasping,  half  dead,  several  yards  from 
the  shore.  The  current  was  carrying  me  down 
the  river,  but  I  saw  Pats  on  the  bank  above, 
watching  me.  His  face  was  pale  and  he  was 
hurrying  along  to  keep  near.  Oh,  how  I  en 
vied  him,  up  there,  alive  and  safe  !  " 

"  Poor  child  !  I  can  well  believe  it !  " 

"He  cried  out,  c Try  and  swim  toward  the 
shore !  Try  hard ! '  And  I  tried,  but  was 
carried  along  so  fast  that  I  seemed  to  make  no 
headway.  Then  I  saw  him  run  on  ahead,  pull 
off  his  shoes  and  outer  clothes,  slide  down 
the  bank  and  shoot  out  into  the  water  toward 
me." 

"  Bravo  !  "  exclaimed  the  listener.  "  Bravo ! 
That  was  splendid !  "  And  in  her  enthusiasm 
she  rose,  and  sat  down  again. 

Elinor  sank  back  in  her  chair.  But  the 
Princess  was  leaning  forward  with  wide  open 
eyes  and  parted  lips. 

"  Then  what  happened  ?  " 

"  He  reached  me,  caught  me  with  one  hand 
by  my  dress  between  the  shoulders,  and  told 
me  again  to  swim  hard  for  the  shore.  It  seemed 
hopeless,  at  first,  for  the  current  was  frightful — 
oh,  frightful !  It  washed  us  under  and  tried 
to  carry  us  out  again.  But  Pats  pushed  hard, 

201 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

and  after  an  awful  struggle  —  it  seemed  a  life 
time  —  we  reached  the  shore." 

"Ah,  good!" 

But  in  the  speaker's  face  there  came  no  en 
thusiasm.  She  closed  her  eyes,  leaning  back  in 
her  chair  as  if  from  physical  weakness.  The 
Princess  got  up,  and  once  more  came  and  stood 
by  the  girl's  chair,  and  gently  patted  a  shoulder. 

"  Tell  me  the  rest  later.     There  is  no  haste." 

"  I  shall  feel  better  for  telling  it  now.  I 
started  to  climb  up  the  bank.  It  was  steep,  all 
stones  and  gravel,  and  a  few  little  bushes.  The 
stones  gave  way  and  kept  letting  me  down  — 
slipping  backward.  He  was  still  in  the  water. 
I  heard  him  tell  me  to  go  slow  and  not  hurry. 
He  was  very  calm,  and  his  voice  came  up  from 
beneath  me,  for — "  and  here  she  laughed,  a 
little  hysterical  laugh  —  more  of  a  sob  than  a 
laugh,  as  if  from  over-taxed  nerves — "for  I 
seemed  to  be  sitting  on  his  head." 

The  Princess  also  laughed,  responsively. 

"  I  shall  never  know  just  how  it  happened, 
but  in  one  of  my  struggles  the  whole  bank 
seemed  to  slide  from  under  me  into  the  river. 
I  clung  to  a  bush  and  called  to  him,  and  tried 
to  look  down,  but  —  he  was  gone." 

A  silence  followed.  The  Princess  rested  her 
202 


Revelations 

cheek  against  Elinor's  hair,  and  murmured  words 
of  comfort.  "  How  long  ago  did  this  happen  ?  " 

"  A  month  ago." 

More  from  sympathy  than  from  conviction 
the  Princess  said  : 

"He  may  return.  Stranger  things  have  hap 
pened.  Perhaps  he  was  carried  out  to  sea  — 
and  rescued." 

Elinor  shook  her  head.  "  He  was  buried 
beneath  the  rocks  and  gravel.  If  he  had  risen 
to  the  surface,  I  should  have  seen  him,  for  the 
day  was  clear.  No,  I  know  where  he  is.  I  see 
him,  all  night  long,  in  my  sleep,  lying  at  the 
bottom  of  the  river,  his  face  looking  up." 

"  My  child,"  said  the  Princess,  "  listen. 
With  your  sorrow  you  have  precious  memories. 
From  what  you  have  not  told  me  of  your  Pats, 
I  know  him  well.  He  loved  you.  That  is 
clear.  You  loved  him.  That  is  also  clear. 
Alone  with  him  in  this  cottage  through  an  end 
less  winter,  and  perfectly  happy  !  Voyons^  you 
confessed  all  when  you  said  '  we  were  happy  ! ' 
He  was  the  man  of  a  woman's  heart !  With  no 
hesitation,  he  gave  his  life  for  yours  :  to  save 
you  or  die  with  you.  Tell  me,  what  can  Heaven 
offer  that  is  better  than  a  love  like  that  ?  " 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  drew  a  long  breath. 
203 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"Ah,  these  Americans!  These  extraordinary 
husbands  !  I  have  done  nothing  but  hear  of 
them ! " 

"  He  was  not  my  husband.'* 

"  But  he  was  to  be  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ! " 

The  Princess  rose,  walked  around  the  table 
and  stood  beside  the  chair  that  held  her 
portrait. 

"  My  child,  I  respect  your  grief.  My  heart 
bleeds  for  you,  but  you  are  to  be  envied." 
With  uplifted  eyebrows,  and  her  head  slightly  to 
one  side,  she  went  on :  "  My  husband,  the 
Prince  de  Champvalliers  is  good.  We  adore 
one  another.  As  a  husband  he  is  satisfactory,  — 
better  than  most.  But  if,  by  chance,  I  should 
fall  into  a  river,  with  death  in  its  current,  and 
he  were  safe  and  dry  upon  the  bank  —  " 

Sadly  she  smiled,  and  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders  turned  about  and  moved  away. 

Erect,  and  with  a  jaunty  step,  she  walked 
about  the  room,  renewing  acquaintance  with  old 
friends  of  her  youth :  with  the  little  tapestried 
fables  on  the  chairs  and  sofa ;  with  certain  por 
traits  and  smaller  articles.  But  it  was  evident 
that  the  story  she  had  heard  still  occupied  her 
mind,  for  presently  she  came  back  to  the  table 

204 


Revelations 

and  stood  in  front  of  Elinor.  With  a  slight 
movement  of  the  head,  as  if  to  emphasize  her 
words,  she  said,  impressively,  yet  with  the  sug 
gestion  of  a  smile  in  her  half-closed  eyes  : 

"Were  I  in  your  place,  my  child,  I  should 
grieve  and  weep.  Yes,  I  should  grieve  and 
weep  ;  but  I  should  enjoy  my  sorrow.  You  are 
still  young.  You  take  too  much  for  granted. 
You  are  too  young  to  realize  the  number  of 
women  in  the  world  who  would  gladly  exchange 
their  living  husbands  for  such  a  memory."  She 
raised  her  eyebrows,  closed  her  eyes,  and  mur 
mured,  with  a  long,  luxurious  sigh  :  "  The 
heroism !  the  splendid  sacrifice !  I  tell  you, 
Mademoiselle,  no  woman  lives  in  vain  who  in 
spires  in  an  earthly  lover  a  devotion  such  as 
that  1 " 


205 


XVI 
NEWS  FROM  THE  WORLD 

JACQUES  soon    appeared.     As  his    know 
ledge  of  English  was  scant,  the  Princess 
gave  him  the  story  she  herself  had  heard. 
Great  was  his  horror  on  learning  that  when  last 
he  came  —  in  September  —  and  left  the   usual 
provisions,  the  Due  de  Fontrevault  had  been  in 
his  grave  since  the  previous  June. 

He  asked  many  questions.  Elinor  told  him 
everything  that  could  be  of  interest,  and  the 
Princess  listened  eagerly  to  these  replies.  The 
old  servant  seemed  pleased  when  Elinor  turned 
to  him  with  a  smile  and  said,  in  his  own  lan 
guage  :  "  So  you  are  the  French  Fairy.  That 
is  what  we  always  called  you  after  finding  your 
letter.  Our  lives  were  saved  by  that  unexpected 
supply  of  food." 

Then  they  talked  of  other  matters,  —  of 
what  things  should  be  carried  back  to  France. 

206 


News  from  the  World 

And  as  the  strength  and  energy  of  the  American 
girl  seemed  to  have  gone  —  owing,  perhaps,  to 
a  too  meagre  diet  —  the  Princess  insisted  upon 
having  her  own  maid  sent  up  to  pack  the  trunks. 
Jacques  departed  on  this  errand,  and  to  get  one  or 
two  men.  He  soon  returned  with  them,  and  ac 
companied  by  the  Archbishop.  With  a  half- 
suspicious  interest  His  Grace  studied  this  young 
woman,  still  seated  in  her  usual  place  by  the  table, 
her  eyes,  with  a  listless  gaze,  following  the  daughter 
of  the  house  as  she  opened  drawers  and  cabinets. 

His  Grace  was  standing  by  the  big  tapestry, 
between  the  two  busts,  his  hands  behind  him. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  child,"  he  said  with  a  deep- 
toned  benevolence,  calculated  to  impress  the 
guiltless  and  to  awe  the  guilty,  "  but  what  I 
find  it  difficult  to  understand  is  why  your  friends 
did  not  look  for  you.  They  certainly  must 
have  guessed  the  situation." 

Elinor  shook  her  head  gently,  as  if  she  also 
recognized  the  mystery. 

"  To  what  do  you  attribute  this  singular 
indifference  to  your  fate  on  the  part  of  your 
family  and  friends  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  guess.     I  have  no  idea." 

"  It  was  purely  accidental  your  —  your  arrival 
here  ? " 

207 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  Naturally." 

In  this  reply  there  was  something  that  smote 
the  Archbishop's  dignity.  It  seemed  verging 
upon  impertinence.  Again  he  scrutinized  the 
faded  garments,  the  sunburned  face,  the  hands 
somewhat  roughened  by  toil,  now  folded  on  the 
table  before  her.  His  perceptions  in  feminine 
matters  were  less  acute  than  those  of  the 
Princess.  He  remembered  a  young  man  had 
been  a  companion  to  this  girl  in  this  cottage, 
and  during  a  whole  year.  It  was  only  natural 
that  the  Princess,  in  treating  this  person  with 
so  much  consideration,  should  be  misled  by  a 
very  tender,  romantic  heart,  and  by  a  Parisian 
standard  of  morality  too  elastic  and  too  easy 
going  for  more  orthodox  Christians.  Into  his 
manner  came  a  suggestion  of  these  thoughts,  — 
his  tone  was  less  gracious,  a  trifle  more  patron 
izing.  But  as  the  victim  supposed  this  to  be 
his  usual  bearing,  she  felt  no  resentment. 

"  It  was  certainly  a  most  unprecedented  — 
one  might  almost  say,  incredible  —  blunder. 
And  in  daylight,  too." 

She  nodded. 

"  Do  I  understand  that  you  came  here  in  a 
steamboat  ?  " 

"Yes." 

208 


News  from  the  World 

"And  the  steamboat,  after  leaving  you  and 
the  young  man,  kept  on  her  course  toward 
Quebec  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  name  of  the  boat  ? " 

"The  Maid  of  the  North" 

"  The  Maid  of  the  North  !  " 

Elinor  took  no  notice  of  this  exclamation  of 
surprise.  In  a  purely  amiable  manner  she  was 
becoming  tired. 

"  The  Maid  of  the  North,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  But,  my  child,  when  was  that  ?  When 
were  you  left  here  ?  " 

With  a  sigh  of  weariness,  she  replied :  "  A 
year  ago  this  month,  on  the  ninth  of  June." 

"  The  ninth  of  June,"  he  repeated,  in  a  lower 
tone,  more  to  himself  than  to  her.  "Why  — 
then,  she  was  lost  between  this  point  and 
Quebec." 

"  Lost  ? " 

And  Elinor  looked  up  at  him  with  startled 
eyes. 

"Yes."  Then  he  added:  "But  I  see  that 
you  could  not  have  known  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  Maid  of  the  North  never 
reached  Quebec  ? " 

14  209 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  Nothing  has  been  heard  of  her  since  the 
eighth  of  last  June.  On  that  day  she  was 
spoken  by  another  steamer  near  the  Magdalen 
Islands." 

Elinor  had  risen  from  her  chair,  and  stood 
leaning  against  the  table.  "  That  is  horrible  ! 
horrible  !  It  does  not  seem  possible  !  What 
do  they  think  became  of  her  ?  " 

"  Nobody  knows.  There  are  several  theo 
ries,  but  nothing  is  certain.  You  are  probably 
the  only  survivor." 

"  But  were  there  no  traces  of  her,  —  no 
wreckage,  nothing  to  give  a  clew  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

With  drooping  head  and  a  hand  across  her 
eyes,  she  murmured  :  "  Poor  Louise  !  And 
my  uncle  —  and  Father  Burke  !  "  And  she 
sank  back  into  her  chair. 

The  Archbishop  took  a  step  nearer.  "  Did 
you  know  Father  Burke  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  dear  friend." 

At  this  reply  the  eyebrows  of  the  holy  man 
were  elevated.  A  light  broke  in  upon  him. 
With  a  manner  more  sympathetic  than  hereto 
fore  —  and  less  patronizing  —  he  said  gently  : 

"  Father  Burke  was  a  dear  friend  of  mine,  also, 
—  an  irreparable  loss  to  the  Church  and  to  all 

210 


News  from  the  World 

who  knew  him.  Is  it  possible  you  are  the  young 
lady  whom  he  held  in  such  high  esteem  and 
affection,  and  of  whom  he  wrote  to  me  ?  Were 
you  in  his  spiritual  charge,  with  thoughts  of  a 
convent  ? " 

She  nodded. 

Into  his  face  came  a  look  of  joy.  Then,  in 
a  voice  brimming  over  with  tenderness  and 
paternal  sympathy : 

"  I  cannot  express  my  pleasure,  my  heartfelt 
gratitude,  that  you  have  been  spared  us.  Of 
your  exalted  character  and  of  your  holy  aspira 
tions  our  dear  friend  spoke  repeatedly.  And 
now,  in  your  hour  of  affliction,  it  will  be  not 
only  the  duty,  but  the  joy  and  privilege  of  our 
Holy  Church  to  serve  you  as  counsellor  and 
guide." 

As  the  girl  made  no  reply,  he  went  on,  in  a 
subdued  and  gently  modulated  voice : 

"At  this  time  more  than  ever  before,  you 
must  need  the  consolation  of  Religion.  Am  I 
not  right  in  believing  that  you  feel  a  deeper 
yearning  for  the  closer  love  and  protection  of 
our  Heavenly  Father,  for  that  security  and 
peace  which  the  outer  world  can  never  offer? 
And  too  well  we  know  that  the  outer  world  is 
uncharitable  and  cruel.  It  might  look  askance 

211 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

upon  this  strange  adventure.  But  the  arms  of 
Our  Mother  are  ever  open.  You  are  always 
her  daughter,  and  with  her  there  is  nothing  to 
forgive.  All  is  love,  and  faith,  and  peace." 

To  this  deeply  religious  girl,  now  stricken  and 
weary,  whose  heart  was  numbed  with  grief,  whose 
hope  was  crushed,  these  words  came  as  a  voice 
from  Heaven.  She  held  forth  a  hand  which  the 
prelate  held  in  both  his  own. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  child." 


212 


XVII 
VOICES   OF   THE   WOOD 

WHEN  the  Princess  realized  the  some 
what  famished  condition  of  her  new 
acquaintance  she  ordered  a  tempting 
lunch  from  the  yacht,  and  had  it  served  in  the 
cottage:  fresh  meat,  with  fruit,  vegetables,  and 
cream  and  butter  —  new  dishes  among  the  Pines 
of  Lory !     Of  this  repast  the  Archbishop  par 
took  with  spirit. 

"Truly  an  invigorating  air.  What  an  appe 
tite  it  gives!"  And  he  devoured  the  viands 
with  a  priestly  relish,  but  always  with  arch- 
episcopal  dignity.  The  person,  however,  for 
whom  the  meal  was  served  leaned  back  wearily 
in  her  chair,  barely  tasting  the  different  dishes. 
"  You  will  starve,  my  child,"  said  the  Princess, 
gently.  "  Really,  you  must  eat  something  to 
keep  alive." 

213 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

The  effort  was  made,  but  with  little  success. 
And  in  Elinor's  face  her  friend  divined  an 
over-mastering  grief. 

The  two  women,  after  lunch,  strolled  out 
among  the  pines,  toward  the  bench  by  the 
river.  It  became  evident  to  the  Princess,  from 
the  manner  in  which  her  companion  leaned  upon 
her  arm,  that  days  of  fasting  —  and  of  sorrow 
—  had  diminished  her  strength.  Upon  the 
rustic  bench  Elinor  sank  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 
But  into  her  face  came  a  smile  of  gratitude  as 
her  eyes  met  those  of  the  little  lady  who  stood 
before  her,  and  who  was  looking  down  with 
tender  sympathy. 

To  Elinor's  description  of  how  she  and  Pats 
found  the  old  gentleman  reclining  upon  this 
same  bench,  the  Princess  gave  the  closest  at 
tention.  Every  detail  was  made  clear  by  the 
narrator,  who  took  the  same  position  at  the  end 
of  the  seat,  crossing  her  knees  and  leaning  a 
cheek  upon  one  hand,  as  if  asleep.  Then  the 
Princess,  after  asking  many  questions,  took  the 
vacant  place  beside  her  and  they  sat  in  silence, 
looking  across  the  river,  to  the  woods  beyond. 
To  both  women  came  mournful  thoughts,  yet 
with  pleasant  memories.  And  soothing  to  the 
spirit  of  each  was  the  murmur  of  the  woods. 

214 


Voices  of  the  Wood 

cess  regarded  the  drooping  head  and  closed 
eyes  ;  then  she  stood  up  and  placed  a  hand 
affectionately  upon  Elinor's  shoulder. 

"  I  understand  your  feelings.  Rest  here 
until  the  boat  goes." 

Indicating,  with  a  wave  of  her  hand,  the  big 
trees  towering  high  above,  she  added : 

"  Your  last  moments  with  these  old  friends 
shall  be  respected.  I  am  going  to  the  two 
graves  over  there,  and  will  return  before  it 
is  time  to  start." 

She  walked  away,  into  the  grove. 

Again,  among  the  shadows  of  these  pines, 
came  memories  of  her  childhood,  with  the  feel 
ing  of  being  alone  in  a  vast  cathedral.  And  the 
fragrance,  how  she  loved  it !  And  she  loved 

O  * 

this  obscurity,  always  impressive  and  always 
solemn,  yet  filling  her  soul  with  a  dreamy 

joy- 
In  her  passage  between  the  columns  of  this 

shadowy  temple  she  stopped  and  turned  about 
for  a  parting  glance  at  her  friend.  In  the  same 
position,  her  head  upon  her  hand,  Elinor  still 
sat  motionless,  a  picture  of  patient  suffering. 
For  a  moment  the  Princess  watched  her  in 
silence,  then  slowly  turned  about  and  started 
once  again  upon  her  way.  Only  a  step,  how- 

217 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

ever,  had  she  taken  when  the  color  fled  from 
her  cheeks  and  she  halted  with  a  gasp  of  ter 
ror.  Gladly  would  she  have  concealed  herself 
behind  the  nearest  tree,  but  she  dared  not 
move. 

In  the  gloom  of  the  forest,  scarcely  a  dozen 
yards  away,  a  figure  was  moving  silently  across 
her  path  in  the  direction  of  the  cottage.  Such 
a  figure  she  had  seen  in  pictures,  but  never  in 
the  flesh.  The  North  American  savage  she 
always  dreaded  as  a  child ;  and  once,  at  a  French 
fair,  she  had  seen  a  wild  man.  This  creature 
recalled  them  both.  He  was  brown  of  color, 
with  disorderly  hair  and  stubby  beard,  and  no 
covering  to  his  body  except  strips  of  cloth,  faded 
and  in  rags,  suspended  from  one  shoulder,  held 
at  the  waist  by  a  cord,  and  dangling  in  tatters 
about  his  legs.  Bending  slightly  forward  as  he 
walked  —  or  rather  glided  —  among  the  pines, 
he  was  peering  eagerly  in  the  direction  of  the 
house.  Had  his  gaze  been  less  intent,  he 
would  have  seen  this  other  figure,  the  woman 
watching  him  in  silent  terror.  Furtively  she 
glanced  about  the  grove  to  see  if  other  creatures 
were  stealing  from  tree  to  tree.  But  she  failed 
to  discover  them. 

Now  the  Princess,  while  fashionable  and  friv- 
218 


Voices  of  the  Wood 

olous,  and  reprehensible  in  many  ways,  was 
not  devoid  of  courage.  And  her  conscience 
told  her  to  give  warning  to  her  friends.  This 
heroic  decision  was  swiftly  made.  In  making  it, 
however,  her  cheeks  grew  paler. 

But  she  was  spared  the  sacrifice.  As  she 
drew  in  her  breath  for  the  perilous  attempt,  she 
saw  the  man  himself  stand  still  and  straighten 
up.  Then,  before  she  could  utter  the  warning, 

—  before  her  own  little  mouth  was  ready,  —  the 
shadowy  silence  of  the  wood  was  broken,  not  by 
the    dreaded   warwhoop,  but  by  an   imitation, 
startlingly  perfect,  of  the  notes  of  a  quail. 

That  this  was  a  signal  to  his  followers  she 
had  no  doubt.  But  suddenly,  while  these  clear 
notes  were  yet  in  the  air,  the  stillness  of  the 
pines  was  again  disturbed  by  a  cry  —  a  cry  of 
joy,  intense  and  uncontrolled  —  from  behind 
her,  toward  the  river.  She  turned  about.  In 
astonishment  she  saw  the  grief-stricken  maiden 

—  a    moment  ago  too  weak  to  walk  alone  — 
already   lifted    from   the   rustic   bench  as  by  a 
heavenly  hand,  now  flying  in  this  direction  over 
the  brown  carpet  of  the  pines,  swift  and  light  of 
foot,  with  wings,  it  seemed.     The  savage,  too, 
had  heard  the  cry  and  already  he  was  running 
toward  the  approaching  figure.     And  he  passed 

219 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

so  near  the  Princess  that  he  would  have  seen  her 
had  he  wished. 

They  met,  the  wild  man  and  the  girl.  And 
the  mystified  spectator — mystified  for  a 
moment  only  —  saw  the  maiden  fling  herself 
upon  this  denizen  of  the  wood  and  twine  her 
arms  about  his  neck.  And  he,  with  a  passion 
ate  eagerness,  embraced  her,  then  held  her  at 
arms'  length,  that  again  he  might  draw  her  to 
him,  kissing  her  hair,  mouth,  forehead. 

From  the  rapturous  confusion  of  excla 
mations,  of  questions  interrupted  and  un 
answered,  the  Princess  understood.  For  a 
moment  she  looked  on  in  wonder,  fascinated  by 
this  astounding  miracle.  But  she  soon  re 
covered.  With  a  lump  in  her  throat  she  began 
backing  away,  to  escape  unobserved.  Elinor, 
through  her  tears,  happened  to  see  the  move 
ment  and  came  forward,  leading  the  savage  by 
the  hand.  With  a  new  light  in  her  eyes,  and 
her  voice  all  a-quiver,  she  exclaimed : 

"  This  is  my  Pats  !  " 

The  Princess  courtesied. 

"  And,  Pats,  this  is  the  Princess  —  the  Prin 
cess  de  Champvalliers  :  our  girl  of  the  minia 
ture." 

Pats  nodded — for  he  recognized  the  eyes 
220 


Voices  of  the  Wood 

with  the  drooping  corners  —  and  he  smiled  and 
bowed.  And  the  Princess,  as  she  looked  into 
his  face  and  forgot  the  wild  hair  and  scrubby 
beard,  the  stains,  the  rags,  and  the  nakedness, 
met  a  pair  of  unusually  cheerful,  honest  eyes, 
and  impulsively  held  out  her  hand. 


221 


XVIII 

A   NUNNERY? 

IN  very  few  words  Pats  told  his  story. 
As  Elinor  had  believed,  he  was  forced 
beneath  the  water  by  the  sliding  earth  and 
stones  ;  but  instead  of  lying  at  the  bottom  he 
had  been  carried  by  the  under-current  far  out 
toward  the  middle  of  the  river.     On  coming  to 
the  surface,  more  dead  than  alive,  he  found  him 
self  among  the  branches  of  an  uprooted  pine, 
also  speeding  toward  the  sea,  at  the  mercy  of 
the  torrent. 

Numb  with  cold  from  the  icy  water,  he  clung 
to  this  friend  all  one  day  and  night,  ever 
drifting  toward  the  Gulf.  At  last,  when  rescued, 
he  was  barely  conscious.  And  on  recovering 
his  wits  he  found  himself  aboard  a  Government 
coaster  just  starting  on  a  two  months'  cruise. 

"  I  insisted  on  being  landed.  They  refused 
at  first,  but  when  I  told  them  the  situation  — 

222 


A  Nunnery? 

of  the  solitary  girl  I  was  leaving  alone  in  the 
wilderness,  —  they  not  only  put  me  ashore,  but 
gave  me  all  the  provisions  I  could  carry." 

"  Bravo  !  A  boat-load  of  lovers  !  "  exclaimed 
the  Princess.  "  And  they  did  well !  " 

"  Indeed  they  did  ! "  said  Pats,  "  for  they 
were  pressed  for  time,  and  it  cost  them  several 
hours.  So,  in  high  spirits,  I  started  westward 
along  the  coast,  expecting  to  get  here  in  three 
or  four  days." 

Then,  turning  to  Elinor  :  "  Do  you  remember 
the  wide  marsh  we  noticed  from  the  top  of  that 
farthest  hill  to  the  east,  at  the  end  of  our  journey 
last  autumn  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  remember.  We  thought  it  the  mouth 
of  a  river." 

"  Well,  it  was  the  mouth  of  a  river,  with  a 
vengeance.  That  marsh  extends  for  miles  on 
both  sides  of  a  river  as  impassable  as  ours. 
Ten  days  I  tramped  northward  up  the  farther 
bank.  And  then,  in  swimming  across,  I  lost 
nearly  all  my  provisions,  and  most  of  my 
clothes." 

With  a  slight  bow  to  the  Princess,  he  added, 
"  I  hope  madam  will  pardon  these  intimate  de 
tails  :  also  certain  deficiencies  in  my  present 
toilet." 

223 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

"  Make  no  apologies,  and  tell  everything,"  she 
answered,  "  I  am  one  of  the  family." 

Pats  continued  :  "  During  nine  days  I  travelled 
south,  retracing  my  steps,  but  on  this  side  of  the 
river.  The  woods  are  different  up  there,  with  a 
maddening  undergrowth,  and  it  soon  made  an 
end  of  what  clothes  I  had  left.  Yesterday  morn 
ing  I  saw  the  sea  again." 

To  every  word  of  this  narrative  Elinor  had 
listened,  absorbed  and  self-forgetful.  As  for  the 
Princess,  she  loved  the  unexpected,  and  here  she 
found  it.  The  more  she  studied  Pats,  the  better 
she  liked  him  and  his  cheerfulness,  —  a  cheerful 
ness  which  seemed  to  rise  triumphant  above  all 
human  hardship.  She  took  an  interest  in  his 
unkempt  hair  and  barbaric,  four  weeks'  beard, 
m  his  scratched  and  sunburnt  chest  and  arms. 
Even  in  the  tattered  remnants  of  his  clothes  she 
found  a  certain  entertainment.  And  she  noticed 
that  while  he  stood  talking  in  the  presence  of 
two  ladies  he  appeared  unembarrassed  by  his 
semi-nakedness,  perhaps  from  the  habit  of  it. 
And,  after  all,  what  cause  for  embarrassment  ? 
How  many  times,  on  the  beach  at  Trouville,  had 
she  conversed  with  gentlemen  who  wore  even 
less  upon  their  persons  ? 

Another  surprise  was  given  her  when  a  brown 
224 


A  Nunnery? 

setter,  from  somewhere  in  the  forest,  came  fly 
ing  toward  them,  and  threw  himself  upon  the 
long  lost  Pats.  And  the  dog's  delight  at  the 
meeting  was  similar  to  Elinor's.  He,  in  turn, 
was  presented  to  the  Princess,  who  patted  his 
head. 

"  Bon  jour,  Monsieur  Solomon.  I  am  happy  to 
meet  you :  and  for  your  enthusiasm  I  have  the 
profoundest  regard." 

Then,  as  they  all  started  toward  the  cottage, 
Pats  still  answering  Elinor's  questions,  there 
appeared  among  the  pines  a  black  figure  which 
recalled  pictures  of  Dante  in  the  forest  of 
Ravenna.  This  figure  halted  in  surprise  at 
sight  of  the  half-naked  savage  approaching 
with  an  easy  self-possession,  a  lady  on  either 
side.  And  evidently  the  savage  was  a  welcome 
object  —  a  thing  of  interest  —  of  affection  even, 
if  outward  signs  were  trustworthy.  And  his 
Grace,  when  presented  to  this  uncouth  object, 
made  no  effort  at  assuming  joy.  Whether  from 
an  unfamiliarity  with  wild  men,  or  from  some 
other  reason,  this  creature  proved  offensive  to 
him.  The  lately  lamented  lover  appeared 
politely  indifferent  to  the  -priest's  opinion, — 
good  or  bad,  —  and  this  so  augmented  his 
Grace's  irritation  that  his  words  of  welcome 
15  225 


/^ 

The  Pines  of  Lory 

displayed  more  dignity  than  warmth.  After 
proper  congratulations  on  the  return  of  her 
friend,  he  said  to  Elinor,  in  impressive  tones, 
with  a  fatherly  benevolence : 

"  We  always  rejoice  when  a  human  life  is 
saved,  but  it  would  prove  a  sad  misfortune, 
indeed,  should  it  cause  you  to  falter  in  your 
high  resolve  and  return  to  worldly  affairs." 

Elinor  instinctively  edged  a  little  closer  to 
Pats  and  slid  a  hand  in  one  of  his,  —  a  movement 
observed  by  the  Princess. 

His  Grace,  with  yet  greater  impressiveness  in 
tone  and  manner,  added  : 

"  Yours  is  not  a  nature  to  forget  or  lightly 
ignore  a  pledge  once  given.  And  please  under 
stand,  my  dear  child,  it  is  for  your  spiritual 
future  thaf  I  remind  you  of  your  solemn  words 
to  our  dear  friend  —  to  him  who  is  no  longer 
here  to  recall  them  to  you,  and  whose  beneficent 
influence  is  forever  gone." 

Into  Elinor's  face  had  come  a  look  of  pain, 
for  these  words  to  a  conscience  such  as  hers  were 
as  so  many  stabs.  Pats  frowned.  Still  clasping 
the  fingers  that  had  slid  among  his  own,  and 
with  a  slight  upward  movement  of  the  chin,  he 
took  one  step  forward  toward  the  prelate.  But 
before  he  could  speak  the  Princess  acted  quickly, 

226 


A  Nunnery  ? 

to  avert  a  scene.  In  a  vivacious,  off-hand  man 
ner,  yet  with  a  certain  easy  authority,  she  said, 
smiling  pleasantly  in  turn  upon  her  three 
listeners  : 

"  You  speak  of  a  convent  ?  Ah,  your  Grace 
forgets  something !  Religion  is  a  mighty  thing. 
We  all  know  that.  But  there  is  one  thing 
mightier  —  and  here  are  two  of  its  victims. 
'Tis  the  thing  that  makes  the  world  go  round. 
You  know  what  it  is.  Oh,  yes,  you  know  ! 
And  it  has  made  archbishops  go  round,  too ; 
even  Popes  —  and  many  times !  And  when 
once  it  gets  you  —  well !  //  s'en  moque  de  la  reli 
gion  et  de  touts  les  Saints  —  for  it  has  a  heaven  of 
its  own.  Moreover,  we  must  not  forget,  your 
Grace  and  I,  that  this  unconventional  gentle 
man  — " 

Here  she  turned  a  mirthful  glance  upon  Pats 
and  his  rags,  and  he  smiled  as  his  eyes  met 
hers  : 

"  That  our  unconventional  gentleman  has  al 
ready  tried  to  give  his  life  for  this  girl.  More 
over,  he  will  do  it  again,  whenever  necessary, 
and  she  is  not  likely  to  forget  it." 

Indeed  not,  if  truth  were  in  the  look  that 
came  to  Elinor's  eyes. 

"  Princess,"  said  the  Archbishop,  "  this  is  not 
227 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

a  matter  for  argument.     It  is  a  question  to  be 
decided  by  the  lady's  own  conscience." 

"  But  I  have  made  no  promise,"  said  Elinor. 
"I  told  Father  Burke  it  was  my  intention  to 
enter  a  convent.  It  was  merely  the  expression 
of  a  wish  —  not  in  the  nature  of  a  binding 
promise." 

"  But  to  me,"  said  Pats,  smiling  pleasantly 
upon  the  Archbishop,  "  she  did  make  a  binding 
promise  —  a  very  definite  promise  of  a  matri 
monial  nature.  If  she  enters  a  convent —  I  go 
too." 

Thereupon  the  Princess  laughed,  —  a  gentle, 
merry  laugh,  spontaneous  and  involuntary.  "A 
nunnery  with  a  bridal  chamber  !  Fi,  rhorreur  I 
Imagine  the  effect  on  the  other  sisters !  " 

At  this  utterance  the  Archbishop  closed  his 
eyes  in  reprobation.  Then,  with  a  paternal  air 
he  regarded  Elinor.  "  Dear  lady,  I  have  no 
desire  to  argue,  or  to  persuade  you  against  your 
wishes  —  or  against  the  wishes  of  your  friends. 
Pardon  me  if  I  have  appeared  insistent.  I  only 
ask  that  you  will  not  forget  that  our  Church  is 
your  Church  —  that  in  sorrow  and  in  trouble, 
and  at  all  times,  her  arms  are  open  to  you." 

Then  addressing  the  Princess :  "  I  am  the 
bearer  of  a  message  from  Jacques  Lafenestre. 

228 


A  Nunnery? 

The  baggage  is  aboard,  and  the  yacht  can  sail 
whenever  your  Highness  is  ready." 

With  a  ceremonious  bow  —  ceremoniously  re 
turned  by  the  group  before  him  —  his  Grace 
strode  slowly  away  toward  the  little  path  that 
led  to  the  beach.  The  Princess  also  —  after 
handing  to  Pats  the  key  of  the  house  —  moved 
away  in  the  direction  of  the  two  graves,  promis 
ing  the  lovers  another  half  hour  for  their  parting 
visit  to  the  cottage.  She  had  gone  but  a  few 
steps,  however,  when  she  stopped  and  wheeled 
about  as  if  moved  by  a  sudden  thought. 

"You  know  well  the  tapestry  that  screens 
the  chamber.  The  scene  in  the  Garden  of 
Eden?" 

Both  nodded  ;  and  Pats  exclaimed :  "  The 
most  entertaining  work  of  art  I  have  ever 
seen!" 

"  I  give  it  for  my  wedding  present,  so  that 
Madame  Pats  may  have  a  portrait  of  her  hus 
band  as  he  appeared  when  first  I  met  him." 

With  a  smile  and  a  nod  she  turned  away  and 
the  jaunty  figure  was  soon  lost  among  the  trees. 

Once  more  alone,  Pats  and  Elinor  turned  and 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes ;  and  both  discov 
ered  an  overflowing  happiness  that  choked  all 
words  —  and  all  attempt  at  words. 

229 


The  Pines  of  Lory 

Pats  opened  his  arms.  As  of  old,  she  en 
tered,  and  the  familiar  rite  was  observed. 

The  surrounding  silence  remained  unbroken. 
But  in  the  murmuring  of  the  pines,  in  that  float 
ing  music  now  dear  to  both,  there  came  to  the 
reunited  lovers  a  subdued  but  universal  rejoic 
ing  —  felicitations  from  above. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA      000066407 


UNIVEf  -LiFORNIA 

LIBRARY 

LO£   ANGELES,  CALIF. 


